The Way of Fate
by Ola.dhp
Summary: In a world where, after the age of 21, you're told the exact time your soulmate will enter your life, avoiding it ever happening isn't exactly possible. But will you be able to avoid it once the timer has run out? Or more importantly, will you even want to? ((EWE, post-war, slow burn))
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no profits from this, and all recognisable characters, places etc. are the property of J.K.**

* * *

Hermione sighed as she flopped back onto her sofa. Once again she had returned home late from the ministry, thoroughly exhausted and with more than a little bit of a headache. Having worked her way up through the years, she was now a member of the department for magical law enforcement, and while initially it had been a fresh start (as well as a step on the path the normalcy), the novelty had soon worn off.

After the war, Harry and Ron had gone straight into work and taken up senior positions as Aurors. Hermione though, once she had gone back to finish her last year of school, had decided that she had had enough hunting and fighting to last her a lifetime, and so had decided on a different career path. Law enforcement had sounded like the perfect position – she didn't have to be in the field catching any of the remaining dark wizards, but she could still play a part in bringing them to justice.

She hadn't, however, realised just how much paperwork was involved. Sheet after sheet of forms, files and documents were haphazardly stacked in teetering piles on her desk, and she had long since given up sorting them, which was highly unlike her.

So here she was, alone on her sofa, in the dark, at the ripe old age of 22 and feeling like she was about 60 years old. She had a sore neck and back from leaning over her desk, writer's cramp and perpetually cold feet due to poor circulation – _probably because I never get up to do anything,_ she thought bitterly.

As she sat there, slumped among the numerous cushions, her eyes roamed the familiar room. It was a relatively small living room, as far as livings rooms go, with a Muggle TV in one corner, a fireplace which she used to floo home each night and bookshelves covering the wall next to where she sat. A coffee table in the middle of the room (which was also covered in books) was just in front of the sofa where she threw herself down most evenings. The walls were a deep red colour, as it always reminded Hermione of old libraries, and the exposed floorboards (lovingly restored by her, Ron and Harry a couple of years back) finished off one of her favourite rooms.

Her eyes roamed upwards to the best feature of all – an entire wall above the fireplace, dedicated to photographs of her and her friends. She felt her mood lighten as she looked at the smiling faces of some of her favourite people in the world – Harry and Ron playing wizards chess in Harry's living room; her, Ginny and Luna sat on the sofa the first time Hermione had showed them a Muggle film; her and Neville sat under a gazebo at Harry and Ginny's wedding…

Her parents sat in the garden of her childhood home.

The familiar sting of impending tears brought Hermione out of her head and back to her senses. Shaking her head to stave them off, she stood up and walked from her living room into her kitchen, where she filled and switched on the kettle. Certain things _,_ she mused, just tasted better the Muggle way.

Crookshanks, having followed her in, was mewing loudly. As she filled up his food bowl, Hermione thought about how glad she was to have him around. While she was fiercely independent and enjoyed her own company, she appreciated coming home to a house that wasn't _completely_ empty.

She took her cup of tea upstairs to her room, set it down on her bedside table and started on her nightly routine. As she was getting undressed she thought back over the past few hours – the ones which has given her a headache – and was surprised to note that for once work wasn't the source of her nightly stress…

 _Sat at her desk surrounded by piles of papers, Hermione was attempting to power through her fatigue and get something done when a knock sounded at her door._

 _"Come in." she said absentmindedly, not looking up to check who it was. Someone clearing their throat brought her back to earth, and she looked up at the familiar face._

 _"Oh Harry, it's you. Something wrong?" she asked._

 _"No, not really, just checking in. How're you?" he asked in reply as he sat down opposite her._

 _"Oh I'm okay really, I'm just trying to sort everything out and I need go over this case file as well as update the notes on the Humphreys case, oh and I have letters and memos I haven't looked at yet and oh Merlin I can't even_ find _the one from my supervisor he's going to kill me if I don't –"_

 _"Hermione?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _She looked up from her desk only to realise that her hands were thrown up in the air in exasperation. She dropped her arms back down and slouched into the chair defeatedly._

 _"Look," Harry said, 'why don't you come over to mine and Ginny's later, so we can have a nice dinner and catch up? It's been a while since we've got together."_

 _Hermione sighed. While the offer was the most appealing thing she'd heard all day, she simply had too much work to do, and if she left it another night she'd never get it finished, not in a million years._

 _"I'm sorry Harry, I really want to come but I just have so much work to do, I'll probably be here until about midnight at this rate."_

 _"Oh, okay. We'll get together another time?" he offered._

 _She nodded at him, and they slipped into a comfortable silence. After about a minute, Harry spoke up again, but this time his voice was tinged with something that sounded a little like nervous trepidation._

 _"Erm… Hermione? Have you looked at your… timer, lately?"_

 _Hermione's ears pricked up and she felt herself stiffen. Harry must have noticed because he seemed to draw in a breath and didn't let it go. She looked down at the middle finger of her left hand, at the ring which she chose to wear night and day. She'd worn it every day in fact, since the night before her 21_ _st_ _birthday – the night before the timer went from reading 00:00:00:00 to reading an unknown, and steadily decreasing, number. Underneath the ring, in glowing gold, was a timer counting down to when she would meet her soulmate. 'Ha,' she scoffed internally, 'what a load of rubbish'._

 _Harry seemed to clock onto what she must have been thinking, as he asked her quickly, "Come on Hermione, aren't you even a_ tiny _bit curious?"_

 _"Of course I'm curious Harry, it's me! I'm curious about everything! That's beside the point though! The point_ is _, is that I refuse to buy into a scheme which strips people of their free will! It's not right!"_

 _"But Hermione, meeting your soulmate is a Good. Thing. Why can't you accept that?!" he asked incredulously, looking at her as if she had just stated that she didn't like breathing. "This ring you chose to wear to, I don't even know, protect yourself from seeing the numbers or whatever? I just don't get it."_

 _She sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her sigh quickly turned into a growl though, as she released some of her frustration in the form of anger._

 _"Fine! I'll take the stupid ring off, but only so you lot will stop hassling me about it every moment of every day!' she exclaimed as she tore the ring off her finger. 'I'm not even going to – oh Merlin…"_

Hermione spat her toothpaste out into the sink, rinsed her mouth, stopped to look at the bags under her eyes and then went to go climb into bed. Underneath the covers, she felt comfortable for the first time that day. Just as she felt her eyes getting heavy, she glanced once again at her left hand middle finger, and read the number that encircled the base of it.

02:12:10:14…13…12…11…

She looked at her clock and saw that it was 01:15, and her dread from earlier came back full force.

She had just over 2 days.

* * *

 **A.N: I hope anyone who reads this likes it so far. I've read enough fics to last me a lifetime, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing one for a change! I ADORE Dramione with all my heart, and soulmate AU's always sounded like a lot of fun, so this is my attempt.**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I don't make any profit from this - it's just for fun. Any recognisable characters/places etc. belong to their respective owners.**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was late, and Malfoys were never late.

His mother had made him swear he would meet her today at exactly half past 2 – it had been almost a year since their last face-to-face meeting – but he'd completely forgotten until about ten minutes ago. He'd just finished a year away in America, assisting with pioneering studies into combining Muggle chemistry with Magical potion making, and honestly he'd been grateful to leave Britain for a while – he found that people stared less when they didn't know (or assume to know) every little thing about him. Plus, learning about something he hadn't been permitted to explore before appealed to his academic side.

Draco allowed himself a wry smile as he walked, picturing his father's face if he ever came to know his own dear pureblooded son had come to respect and even admire Muggle science – he was probably rolling in his grave, he thought to himself. With Lucius having died a few years back, Draco and his mother had been allowed a freedom that they had never had before – mother could throw parties without having to run every detail by father for him to scrutinise. She could even have friends over if she wished, though the fallout from the war had left them with fewer friends and more… people who wanted to stay on their good side. And Draco, who was now no longer locked away in his father's shadow, had passed the Malfoy family business (which had been bequeathed to him) to one of his numerous uncles. This had allowed him, for the first time in his life, to pursue something he was actually passionate about.

As he came closer to the restaurant where his mother was waiting, he looked around at the people he was rushing past. Some ignored him, too absorbed in their own lives. Some stared at him as if trying to place him. But most, he was unsurprised to note, looked at him with a mixture of confusion and contempt, as if they were thinking to themselves 'where has _he_ been?', followed by 'how dare he even come back!'. Draco didn't give two hoots about what anyone thought of him though – as far as other people's opinions went, he only cared about his mother's and his closest friends'.

 _I really have to see them all soon_ he thought to himself as he reached the entrance of the restaurant his mother had chosen. He suppressed a scoff when he realised that, despite his mother's insistences that she was branching out, she had picked the most upmarket place in the whole of wizarding London. She never was one for change. He stepped inside and was greeted by a very nervous looking waitress.

"M-mister Malfoy?" she asked squeakily.

He raised an eyebrow at her as if to say 'do you really need to ask?', and she squeaked once more, nodded and told him to follow her. When they reached the table where his mother was sat, Draco was reminded of just how statuesque she really was.

A picture of sophisticated beauty, Narcissa Malfoy greeted her only son with a warm yet reserved smile and thanked the fidgeting waitress. He looked his mother over, checking for changes since he had last seen her, and was unsurprised to find that she had barely aged. Her silvery blonde hair was tied up into a simple yet elegant bun, and her face seemed to glow in the afternoon light that was filtering through a nearby window. It was her smile he noticed most thoutgh – it was nice to see her happy.

Once the waitress had left and Draco had settled into his seat, Narcissa spoke.

"Draco, darling, how are you? I can't believe it's been almost a year since I last saw you in person, I missed you so much! How was America? Have you been eating well? You look awfully thin; I hope you weren't working too hard over there."

Draco smiled at his mother's breathless and relentless fussing, and remembered just how open and uninhibited she was when it was just the two of them. He decided there and then that he had missed her far too much.

"I'm fine, honestly, you shouldn't worry yourself. I'm a big boy now; I can take care of myself perfectly well," he said in a playful, haughty voice; but then he dropped the silliness and said quietly, "I just wish I'd visited you more often. Was it okay being on your own? I know in your letters you said you were fine but…" he trailed off.

"Oh Draco don't be silly, you were doing your own thing and I was doing mine." She said matter-of-factly. "Did us both good I think. And don't worry about me being alone – I went to visit some very old friends of mine over in France. Lovely home they had, just beautiful. And a daughter too… I thought maybe you and her might like to –"

"Mother," he interrupted sharply. "Not going to happen. I do not need, nor do I want, any kind of relationship at the moment – if ever. So drop it. Please." He knew he'd sounded touchy and irritable, but he didn't really care. He was sick of everyone always going on about suitors and relationships and – Merlin help him – soulmates. _What a load of crap_ , he thought.

Sure, he'd had his fair share of experience with girls back in his school days, but that was more due to raging hormones and close proximity. That had all taken a backseat after sixth year anyway, when he had been well and truly roped into the plots and schemes of a nasally challenged psychopath who had threatened his family and then took over their home. His path had been laid out for him since childhood – brainwashing and conditioning him to follow in his father's footsteps. That was why he was one of the many people of his generation who had refused to get stuck in with all this soulmate nonsense – it felt too scripted, too staged… too much like they weren't actually the ones in control.

So Draco mostly ignored the little numbers on his finger. He wanted to decide something for himself for once.

Narcissa Malfoy was watching her son intently as he thought to himself. Being an intelligent woman, she quickly linked his extended silence and the topic of their discussion, and before she could even try to stop herself a sly, trademark Malfoy smirk had taken over her normally demure features - much to Draco's annoyance.

"What," he asked irritably, "are you grinning about now?"

Going straight for the kill, Narcissa said forcefully "Let me see your hand."

Draco scowled. He'd hoped to avoid this particular scenario – his mother would be unbearable once she found out he had just less than 2 days left. However, she'd never forgive him if he didn't at least tell her that one of the most important days of his life (according to her anyway) was nearly here. He growled deeply and thrust his hand across the table at her, already anticipating her reaction.

When she saw, she gasped and practically squealed, but reined in her excitement because Malfoys don't squeal in upmarket establishments.

"Oh how exciting!" Narcissa gushed. "How did you not tell me earlier? You can stay over at the manor the night before so that I can make you look presentable on the day! Merlin, this is such good news – I can't believe it's so soon – you only turned 21 just this past year! Do you think it could be someone you know? Imagine that – it is possible after all. Oh Draco this is just so –"

"I won't be acting on whatever happens. I may not even leave the Manor that day." Draco deadpanned, interrupting his mother for the second time that day.

Narcissa's face went from shocked to angry to just plain confused in the space of about a second. Suddenly, she turned stern and strict – like she was reprimanding a five-year-old for bad behaviour.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. Even if I have to drag you outside myself, you will meet whoever it is you are destined to meet, and you _will_ be pleasant to her – or him – just like I taught you."

Draco made to answer back, but the look in the woman's eye told him that it wouldn't be wise to do so. Instead, he sighed deeply, scowled a moment longer and then picked up the menu. As if on cue, a waiter arrived to take their orders, and Draco decided to drop the subject entirely – there was no convincing Narcissa one way or the other once she had set her mind on something.

The rest of the meal passed rather uneventfully, as mother and son caught each other up on the past year of their respective lives. Draco's dread eased somewhat, until they were back on the busy road outside of the restaurant and he looked down at the glowing numbers he wished with all his heart didn't exist.

01:20:16:13…12…11…10…

Sighing, he linked his arm through his mother's and led them both back down the road, his head in the clouds and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

* * *

 **A.N: Here's the next chapter! Thank you to those of you who reviewed - your kind words mean a lot! One major thing I'm worried about with this being my first fic is making sure nobody is OOC, because I personally hate fics like that. So... let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not and will not ever own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make not profit from this, it's just for fun. Any recognisable characters/places etc. belong to their respective owners.**

"Pansy, I've told you before and I'll tell you again – I don't care about this whole soulmate thing! I don't care whether or not I'm 'destined' to be with someone. So can you please, _please_ leave it alone?"

Today was the day. Hermione had spent the past two days being hounded by each of her friends in turn following her and Harry's conversation in her office. They had argued, reasoned and joked, and so far none of them had managed to get her to change her mind about whether or not soulmates were a good thing.

Pansy looked at Hermione for a second, sighed and then smiled at her.

"Okay, if you don't want me to talk about it, I won't." She paused, and then said quietly in a sing-song voice, "but you only have 15 minutes left."

" _PANSY!"_ Hermione shouted, but then her anger faded and she put her forehead down on the table, defeated. Still with her head down, she looked sideways at the café they had decided to sit in to wait for her timer to finish. Newly opened on Diagon Alley, the place was crowded yet homely. It smelt like freshly brewed coffee, and summertime sunshine spilled through the large windows onto mismatched tables and chairs. Looking around quickly, Hermione couldn't see anyone who looked as nervous as she felt right then. _Maybe,_ she thought, _they aren't even in here._ She had originally protested against going outside at all, but Pansy had threatened to never speak to her again if she didn't come out for lunch; obviously she wouldn't have followed through with it, but Hermione would rather stay in her good books. Plus, she really was hungry.

"Look," Pansy said, softer than before. "I won't say anything else about my personal views on it, but I have to ask _why_ you hate the idea so much. I mean, I don't often agree with Potter –"

"Harry." Hermione corrected, lifting her head up.

"Right, sorry – force of habit. I don't often agree with _Harry_ , but he has a point when he says it's a good thing. I mean, from what you told me about the conversation he probably could have gone about it in a gentler way, but he brought up a few valid points, did he not?" Pansy said, looking at her expectantly.

Exhaling and sitting back in her seat, Hermione looked at her friend. A year ago she wouldn't have even given Pansy the time of day, never mind let her see the inner workings of her mind, but Pansy's matching with Ron about six months ago had brought them to be closer than she had ever imagined. Once she and everyone else had gotten over the initial shock – Ron himself had nearly fled the country, and Pansy had assured Hermione in private that the feeling had been mutual – they had all taken baby steps towards accommodating her, and eventually the two witches had set aside their differences and become good friends.

Of course, once you found your supposed soulmate there was no rule that said you had to actually act on it, but more often than not people found themselves becoming attached (or even just curious) rather quickly. After about a fortnight Pansy and Ron had become almost inseparable – once they had gotten over a few issues during meetings that had mostly ended with public screaming matches.

Hermione wondered to herself why people even tried that hard to be with someone they hadn't chosen themselves, but she guessed that perhaps it was the allure of what _could_ happen that led them to stick it out. After all, those little numbers had been around for as long as anybody could remember – further back than even the earliest records – and it seemed to be a mostly successful system, for both Wizardkind and Muggles alike. Obviously sometimes things got in the way; arranged marriages (particularly in pureblooded families), death or very, very occasionally divorce could put an end to these 'perfect matches'. Hermione's issue though, was something a little more personal.

Realising that Pansy was still waiting for an answer, she looked around as if trying to find an excuse not to say anything. Hermione had never liked admitting her faults – it felt like admitting defeat – but the quickly diminishing numbers on her wrist were almost whispering to her that it was now or never.

"Okay," she conceded, "the reason I don't like the whole idea is because I don't like to be out of control. And having this,' she said, pointing at her finger, 'is like this constant reminder that my future is already planned out. Like, before the war when everything was building up, my future and the futures of all those other kids who were roped into the fighting were already planned – our paths were set, and the only place they were leading to was war. I just… I just don't want something _this_ important to already be decided _for_ me. I want to make some choices for myself for once. And I know it was a bit silly to think I could control it by wearing that ring for over a year, but that was the only way I could think of for me to feel comfortable about it." she finished.

Pansy considered her words for a moment, and then seemed to decide what was best to say.

"Look, Hermione. I get it. We were all too young to do what we had to do. We should have been allowed a normal childhood where the only things we had to worry about were our grades and who would ask us to go to Hogsmeade with them. But we weren't allowed that. Instead, we fought in a war – on different sides I might add, even if I wasn't actually a death eater like dear old daddy – and we came out the other side; we were different people to the children we went in as, but we were alive nonetheless. It's over Hermione. The right side won and now we don't have to worry about it anymore. So why not lose control? Why not just enjoy life; ups, downs and curveballs included?"

Once again, Hermione sighed deeply, thinking over what had been said.

"I think I could," she replied, "one day. But just not in the next…" she looked down at her timer and gasped, " _minute and a half?!_ Oh _Merlin_ Pansy, what do I do?!" She looked up at her friend for some much needed support and was surprised to find her looking out of the window at someone.

Suddenly Pansy smiled, stood up and waved at whoever was out there, motioning for them to come inside. The bell above the coffee shop door tinkled as whoever it was stepped inside – Hermione was too busy looking down at the glowing numbers to even notice anything else.

"Narcissa!" Pansy cried. "How lovely it is to see you again!"

The Malfoy matriarch came and stood by their table, not recognising Hermione due to the mass of curls shielding her face.

Hermione meanwhile, was counting down with her eyes fixed firmly on the timer.

60… 59… 58… 57…

"Pansy my dear, how are you? You look simply _wonderful_ – Mr. Weasley is certainly a very lucky man!"

45… 44… 43… 42… Hermione's heart was thudding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

Pansy laughed and replied "He certainly is, isn't he? So, what brings you here of all places?"

36… 35… 34… 33… Hermione couldn't decide whether so wanted time to speed up or slow down.

Narcissa gestured towards the door without looking. "Draco did – he's back from America you know. He's always talking to me about 'getting me out of the house', so I made him come with me for lunch. It was just chance that you happened to be here I suppose – but I'm ever so glad you were! You simply _must_ come to the Manor one day so we can properly catch up."

19… 18… 17… 16… Hermione heard the bell this time as someone new entered the coffee shop, but she couldn't bring herself to look up at who it was. Instead, she chose to focus on the numbers. She was so focussed in fact, that she didn't notice the conversation that was occurring between the two women next to her.

"Here he comes now – Draco, over here!" Narcissa said as she waved him over.

12… 11… 10… 9… Hermione felt the sudden urge to run, but she couldn't very well run away from her own hand, no matter how hard she tried.

"Hi Draco," Pansy said as she greeted the new arrival. "Long time no see."

7…

Draco stood next to his mother and greeted Pansy with a hug.

"Hey Pans. I guess it has been a while hasn't it? Sorry I didn't visit very much… I think I just needed time away." He said a little sheepishly and with a sort of apologetic shrug. Like his mother before him, he also failed to notice the presence of a certain panicking witch.

4…

"Doesn't matter really, I get to see you now." she said offhandedly. Suddenly, her tone of voice changed, and she said slyly "you remember Hermione don't you Draco?"

1… 0

Upon hearing her name, Hermione's head shot up and she took in the two new faces.

"Malfoy?!" she exclaimed.

"GRANGER?!" Malfoy countered.

All of a sudden, a bright golden glow beamed out of both of their middle fingers, as their timers came to a complete stop.

The rest of the café looked towards the small group. Hermione was in shock, Draco looked like he was about to faint, Narcissa Malfoy just stared at her son and Pansy emitted a small cackle.

"Oh," she laughed, "this is going to be _good_."

 **A.N: Hope you like it! As for those reviewers who were a little confused, hopefully this chapter and the next few will clear things up – bear with me! Also, I'll be trying to update every two days or so while I'm not in school. Thanks for reading – please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not and will not ever own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make not profit from this, it's just for fun. Any recognisable characters/places etc. belong to their respective owners.**

Draco almost laughed out loud – _almost._ He'd also almost been stupid enough to begin to believe (due to his mother's insistence) that meeting his soulmate could maybe be a good thing for him. But no; he was Draco Malfoy, and if he could ever be sure of anything it was that nothing good ever happened to Draco Malfoy.

And so there he stood, rooted to the spot in that stupid café where suddenly the chattering of people and clattering of coffee cups all seemed a little too jarring, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee turned bitter and unpleasant as he breathed it in. Inhaling deeply to steady himself and his building anger, he turned quickly on his heel and went straight for the exit. Half expecting his mother to intervene before he got there, he was relieved when he pulled the door and it swung open for him. He passed through it as quickly as he could and left the speculative whispers and murmurs behind.

Out on the street, he relished the cool breeze that washed over his tired face as he went steadily in one direction, uncaring as to where he ended up.

As he walked, he thought about what had just happened. One second he had been feeling slightly guilty about his lack of contact with one of his closest friends, and the next second that same so-called friend had said one name he'd never expected to hear.

 _"You remember Hermione, don't you Draco?"_

Stopping suddenly, much to the irritation of an already disgruntled looking wizard directly behind him, Draco emitted a low frustrated growl and looked skywards, as if he would find the answer to his new set of issues written in the clouds that hung overhead. He couldn't believe his luck, his complete and utter awful, horrible, terrible luck. He'd gone into that café just behind his mother, after accepting the fact that whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of what he did. He'd expected some stranger to spill coffee on him, or have someone fall over and land on him or something stupid and predictable. But no, It just had to be Granger of all people, didn't it? Not some witch he didn't know, who he had no history with. It just _had_ to be the girl he'd been _beyond_ a dick to in school. How was it even possible that that same girl could be his supposed soulmate? He hadn't seen her since the end of the war when they were 18, so he could see how it was _technically_ possible – the timer only started after your 21st birthday, so technically it could end up being someone you'd known for years, a passing acquaintance or even just a total stranger – but _still_.

He continued to walk down Diagon Alley, until he came to a shop selling Muggle books – 'Muggle Scripts for all Necessities'. Perching himself on the wall outside of it, he put his head down in his hands and hoped with all his heart that he was dreaming. There was no other explanation for what had just occurred; it had to be a dream.

He pinched himself hard, and then muttered to himself as he rubbed the self-inflicted sore spot.

"Don't be an idiot Draco, you know you're not dreaming." he said quietly to himself.

"You know, they say that talking to oneself is one of the first signs of madness" said a familiar voice as the speaker came and stood next to him.

Looking upwards he saw the concerned face of his mother, but there was something else in her gaze too. Draco was most displeased to find that it was mild amusement.

"Come to lecture me on everything I did wrong, or on my improper manners? Or maybe it was that I left without –"

"Shush Draco." Narcissa cut him off.

Draco stared up at the aristocratic witch, thoroughly taken aback.

"I'm not here to lecture you," she said plainly, "I'm here to ask you why you left in such a hurry."

"Are you… I mean… what do… are you kidding?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"No dear, I am not 'kidding' – why did you rush out of there looking like you'd seen a ghost?" she enquired, "I mean, I know you weren't too keen on this whole situation in the first place, but surely it wouldn't kill you to show a little decorum and maybe say _hello_ to the girl."

"You do know who that was, don't you?" Draco said incredulously.

His mother looked affronted.

"Of course I do. I don't live under a rock Draco, despite what you may believe."

"Well then you'll understand what I mean when I say that this is either a horrific mistake or an even worse stroke of luck – or probably both!" he shouted.

"Lower your _voice_ , we're in public!" she scolded. She offered him a hand and he stood up, towering over her. They started the slow walk back down Diagon Alley, her arm linked gracefully through her son's. "And actually," she continued after a moment of silence, "I don't know what you mean. _I_ happen to think she would be an _exemplary_ match for you."

He stopped walking to stare at his mother, open mouthed. Narcissa simply reached up, shut his mouth and pulled him along with a little force to get him to continue walking. After another minute, Draco found his voice.

"How, in any universe, would _Granger_ and I be an 'exemplary match'?! You're actually starting to worry me mother – should I make an appointment for next week at St Mungos, or do you think this severe lapse in judgement could be considered a medical emergency?" he said snarkily.

This time it was his mother's turn to stop.

" _Draco,_ " she said warningly, "I will _not_ allow you to speak to me like that. Regardless of your current emotional turmoil, I'm still your mother and I _will_ be afforded a certain amount of respect."

Draco sighed deeply, looking down at the ground. He glanced upwards and found his mother's stern eyes looking back at him. He felt like a small child whenever his mother told him off like that. He then looked away from his mother at all the people trying to all squeeze past each other and get to where they need to go. He was already attracting some malicious stares from a few of them, and so he said "Fine. But can we please go back to the Manor to talk about this? I'd rather not have all of these nosy buggers listening in to our conversation" he finished loudly and irritably so that the people around them would definitely be able to hear.

As he expected, a few of them hastily walked in the opposite direction and a few others made some very nervous eye contact, and then the Malfoys set off for home.

* * *

As she watched her childhood nemesis practically run out of the door, Hermione just wished she'd thought to do that before he had – if she did it now it would look to everyone else inside like she was _running after_ Draco Malfoy.

And Merlin knew Hermione Granger would _never_ run after Draco Malfoy – not in a billion years.

So she sat in that café, staring out into space with her jaw nearly on the floor and Narcissa Malfoy looking at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. Pansy was back in her seat, and she began quietly giggling to herself. The sound snapped Hermione out of her shock.

"Pansy will you _shut up_ ," she hissed, "this is _not_ funny."

"I'm sorry Hermione but this actually happens to be the funniest thing so far this year." the raven haired witch opposite her chortled.

Feeling slightly like she was being ignored, Narcissa cleared her throat daintily yet with an air that suggested she'd done it a thousand times before, and both girls looked up at her. Pansy smiled warmly at the woman, but Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. While it was now common knowledge (thanks to a post-war testimony from Harry and extensive reporting in the papers) that Narcissa Malfoy wasn't actually a Death Eater, and that she had only done what she had for the sake of her son, Hermione couldn't help but be a little suspicious – being on opposite sides of a war could bring about animosity even between the closest of family members, never mind between strangers. Especially, Hermione thought, when one of them had been ruthlessly tortured in the other's living room.

Narcissa however seemed unperturbed by the slight glare she was receiving from the curly haired witch, and instead smiled apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry for my son's behaviour," she said, catching Hermione completely off guard; "I actually warned him this morning that he would be in the deepest of trouble should he be anything less than a complete gentleman when the time came for… well, you know. I hope he hasn't upset you in any way."

Hermione stared for a second and then answered quickly.

"Oh goodness no, I'm not upset at all!" she said, "In fact I felt like doing the exact thing he did."

Narcissa frowned ever so slightly at her words and Hermione was reminded suddenly that she _was_ actually talking to the man's mother, so she rushed to try and explain what she had meant.

"Oh, Merlin, I don't mean that I don't like him – well to be honest I don't really – I hardly even know him, and he was awful to me in school and I just – well – what I mean to say is that –"

She took a deep breath to steady her sudden bout of nerves before continuing. Just because Narcissa intimidated her ever so slightly, she would not behave like a blubbering idiot.

"All I mean is that I decided a long time ago that I was not going to participate in this soulmate business. None of us are bound by contract or bond or any such thing to participate and so I made my decision to not get involved. I was extremely on edge all day, as you can probably understand, and so when what just happened… _happened_ , my first reaction internally was exactly the same as Malf – Draco's." she finished, reasoning that it probably wasn't best to refer to someone by their second name when talking to their mother.

The Malfoy matriarch studied the brown haired witch in front of her for a long while, and Hermione found that she felt the overwhelming urge to squirm in her seat under such a scrutinising gaze - it felt like she was being interrogated, but just in complete silence. When Narcissa finally spoke, Hermione was shocked by the woman for the second time that day.

"No need to explain yourself to me dear, I understand." she said.

She said her goodbyes to Pansy and then made to leave. Before she had gotten three steps away from the girls' table however, she stopped and turned back to look directly at Hermione.

"You know," said Narcissa, "you and Draco are much more alike than either of you probably would like to think."

And with that statement, which left Hermione feeling extremely confused and slightly indignant, Narcissa Malfoy turned and followed her son out of the door.

 **A.N: sorry this update is so late! I had a lot of family stuff going on - I'll try and get the next chapter up much quicker. I hope you all like the pace and characterisation so far. I love reading your input, so please review! Thanks for reading :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I do not and will not ever own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make not profit from this, it's just for fun. Any recognisable characters/places etc. belong to their respective owners.**

 **A.N: Once again I'm really sorry for the wait! I was camping without internet access for 5 days and then GCSE results (6 As and 6 A*s!) and then my best friend lost her Grandmother in the past few days, so… it's been busy.**

 **Anyway, _anonyxxx_ asked a question regarding the rules of the soulmate process, so I thought that to avoid any further confusion I'd outline the basics for you here. Okay, so in my version of the soulamte AU, everyone has a timer – Muggles and magical people alike, and nobody knows how it started or how it works; all they know is that it counts down to when you meet your soulmate. ((However pairings are almost always between two magical people or two Muggles – too messy otherwise)). The timer is present from birth, but is blank until your 21st birthday. On your 21st birthday, the timer will start counting down from a number which appears on the clock, and the length of time can be anywhere from a few hours or even minutes, to decades. However, and this is what the reviewer was asking about, the purpose of the timer is not to force people together. In my version, there is no obligation or contract or magical bond of any kind once you have met your soulmate. The timer's purpose is to show you who your soulmate is, but you have a choice as to whether or not you actually take action.**

 **Also, regarding the guest reviewer who talked about Narcissa – if you happen to read this then thank you for your comments and advice, and as for Narcissa's seemingly pleasant nature towards Muggleborns (i.e. Hermione), there is a reason – bear with me!**

 **Sorry for the long author's note and on with the story!**

Draco sat slumped in his high-backed armchair. Elbow on the armrest and chin in his hand, he stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace in front of him, lost in thought.

Over the years, he'd grown accustomed to wearing a mask of indifference around most people, the exceptions being his mother and very occasionally his friends. He kept his expression unreadable and his emotions in check – mostly. On a few occasions he had been pushed to the precipice of what he assumed was his breaking point, but he always removed himself from the situation before anything regrettable ever happened. This was what he had done almost a week before in that café – ran away before the bubbling emotions that lay beneath the surface seeped through and stained the stoic surface. This mask kept him in check – kept him stable.

However, when he was alone there was nobody to present it to, and so it dissolved and left confusion and inner turmoil in its wake. When he was alone, he thought and thought until he felt sure there were no more thoughts to be had.

He often thought of his father, though he would sooner hex himself repeatedly in the eyeball than tell anybody.

After the war, Draco and Narcissa had avoided imprisonment due to the testimony of Harry 'saviour of the wizarding world' Potter, and his own father's insistence that he had forced his wife and son to participate. When Lucius had proclaimed this in front of judge and jury, Draco remembered that his mother had tried to deny it to help her husband, but he had managed to hold her back from doing anything that may jeopardise her own health and security. His father was sentenced to life in Azkaban that same day.

The trail had taken place on June 1st 1998, nearly a month after the end of the war and four days before Draco's 19th birthday. Almost like a sick, twisted birthday present, he thought to himself.

Once locked away behind bars, Lucius' already poor health (due to his first stint in Azkaban and the stress of having the Dark Lord breathing down his neck for years) began deteriorating rapidly. He was allowed home on 'compassionate release' in the last few days of his life, still accompanied by a rotating series of Aurors who sat imposingly by the door, watching the dying man at all times.

Draco remembered distinctly that he hadn't known how to feel. He didn't know whether to be pleased that at least his father wouldn't die cold and alone, or livid towards the man who had essentially signed himself up for a living hell and dragged his family down with him. The inner conflict had raged within him for three days, until on the morning of November 23rd 1999, his father died.

When he had stood next to his father's bed, watching his mother sob into the sheets as she held her dead husband's hand, he had felt a crack tear its way right through the middle of his icy mask of indifference. He had then retreated to his room for the night, plastering over the chink in his armour.

His mother had cried for two days afterwards, and then flung herself into paperwork and funeral planning to distract herself. Draco on the other hand, didn't shed a tear.

The next six months were a blur in his memory. He had been there for his mother as best he could, and helped her through the worst of her grief – mainly by allowing her to cry onto his shoulder. Mostly though, she had held herself together and gotten on with attempting to repair the damage the Malfoy patriarch had done to the family's reputation.

One event from that time that did stick out in his mind though, was when he had expressed his surprise to his mother regarding the way in which she handled the death. He had expected, he told her, that she would completely break down, for he had seen the level of dedication and sometimes dependency that she had shown towards his father.

Narcissa had smiled sadly, and said quietly that she had lost the man she married years before he had died. Confused, Draco had asked what she meant. She had replied that she had already grieved the loss of her husband a long time ago, when she realised that the person who came out the other side of involvement with the Dark Lord would not be the same Lucius Malfoy she had originally known. The man they watched die, she said, was merely a shell of the man who was.

By May of 2000, Draco was finding that it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide his emotions away. They had been festering and fermenting beneath the surface, and being cooped up in his childhood home which was full of a multitude of painful memories wasn't helping them to disperse. So he decided a change of scenery was what he needed.

He contacted the ministry, asking if they would allow him to join their team that would be investigating Muggle-magical scientific possibilities, which he had read about in the Daily Prophet. Harsh words were exchanged, and accusations of persisting Death Eater sympathy were hurled at him constantly, but Draco managed to pass the tests needed and he agreed to all of their terms. He had reasoned with them, saying that surely he was less of a 'threat to public safety' if he was far away from the public they were trying to protect.

A week after the initial enquiry, he said goodbye to his mother and left for America.

The feeling of freedom and relief he experienced being so far away from Britain was immense, and it could not even be dampened by the official that was 'overseeing' Draco's work and leisure, as per the Ministry's request.

A year later, he was back in his childhood home and feeling almost as irritated as before he had left.

Stupid _Granger._

Still staring into the fire, lost in thought, he didn't hear his mother quietly entering the room.

"Draco?" she asked softly, yet loud enough that he heard and nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to scare you like that. I was just wondering where you had gone. I sent Misty to fetch you for dinner, but she said you told her you wanted to be left alone."

He vaguely remembered hearing the house-elf apparate into his room and 'request his presence in the dining room', but he didn't recall answering her. His mind had been preoccupied, he supposed.

"I was just… I don't know," he sighed, "thinking… I guess."

His mother conjured up a chair similar to his own with ease, and sat down near to the fire so that she could see him properly.

"Thinking about what?" she enquired, and then after a second or two she asked, "about the Granger girl?"

He wasn't going to admit to ruminating about his father, and _technically_ he _had_ just started to think about the whole Granger situation, so he ran with it.

"Yeah, a little," he said tentatively, "it only makes sense that something this fucked up would happen to me of all people," he finished bitterly.

Narcissa sighed and leaned back in her armchair, her hands clasped on her lap. She looked at her son so intensely that he began to feel uncomfortable, and so he stared off into the fire again to avoid her gaze.

"Do you dislike the idea because of her blood?" she asked after what felt like hours.

Draco thought for a second. He decided that no, that wasn't the reason.

His faith in pureblood supremacy, as taught to him by his father, had first started to waver in his early school years. Potter's initial rejection had left his pride wounded – he'd been brought up to think that everyone who was anyone would want to know him due to his family name, but a certain scarhead had completely turned him down… and in favour of _weasel_ of all people. The thought still made Draco cringe slightly.

Then as he progressed through school, Hermione bloody Granger besting him in every subject made him realise that the supposed facts about how Muggles and Muggleborns were inferior in every way simply didn't add up quite as well as he'd expected.

Flash forward to sixth year, and with the Dark Lord residing in his home and his father a pathetic shell of the person he once was, Draco was well and truly questioning his whole belief system. Of course, he hadn't done much about his doubts, as he had to act fast to try and keep his family safe.

During the final battle, he had seen a Death Eater lying dead next to a Muggleborn fourth year girl. As blood had gushed from both of them, mingling and mixing on the cold stone floor of the courtyard, Draco had seen no difference in colour – no dirty and clean, no pure and impure. It was just blood.

The icing on the cake of his doubts had come in the form of his year in America. There, he had been able to see just how much muggles had been able to accomplish without magic. Their lack of it had not hindered them or rendered them incapable or incompetent – they could actually do things themselves that Draco could never even dream of being able to do.

So no, he didn't dislike the idea of Hermione Granger because of blood. He refused to make his father's mistakes.

"No," he answered finally, "that's not why."

"Then why?" she asked.

He sighed.

"It's just – it's _Granger_."

Narcissa just smiled slyly at his petulant answer. Maybe, she thought, some intervention was what was needed.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no profits from this, and all recognisable characters, places etc. are the property of J.K.**

 **A.N: Again, I can't apologise enough for the long wait - I've just started 6th form so I've been trying to get set up and prepared for the year, and I just haven't had any spare time to write until now. Also, my computer changer has gone AWOL so this was typed up on my phone - apologies for any spelling, punctuation, grammar or formatting errors. If you see any, just let me know, I'll be trying to tidy this up (especially the formatting) as and when I find my bloody charger. Sorry again for the long wait, and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

Hermione stared blankly at her ceiling, almost wishing it was a workday; even though she was starting to absolutely hate her job. She just felt like she needed something - anything - to keep her mind occupied right now.

It had been exactly a week since her timer had stopped, which would make it... God, what was the date? She rolled over and looked at her alarm clock, and saw that it was April 25th. She also noticed with a sigh that it was only 8:15.

Sometimes, Hermione wished she was a bit more like Ron or Harry, just so that she would be able to have a lie in on the weekends. When they were younger and Hermione had spent summers with the pair at the Burrow, she had always been the first one to wake up, and she had had to come up with some creative solutions to get them both out of bed - a bucket of cold water often did the trick. Hermione supposed she had developed her mothers stance on early rising - her mother had always said to her when she was a little girl that it was a waste of the day to stay in bed and do nothing, and that you should always be up and ready to seize whatever opportunities should come your way.

Hermione sniffed as she felt the hot sting of tears, and quickly diverted her thoughts away from family. That, she thought to herself, was for another day.

Sitting up in bed, she pulled the covers up to her waist and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. She knew she should probably get up and do something, but her bed was probably one of her favourite places in the world.

Large and luxurious, it contrasted with all the rest of her (much more modest) furnishings. It was king sized, with a sturdy oak frame and decoratively carved bed knobs. The covers were a bright, golden yellow - Hermione's favourite colour. She loved when the sun streamed through the curtains on sunny mornings like this one and bounced of the bedsheets, casting a golden glow all around the room. Whatever mood she woke up in, the sight of that always managed to cheer her up.

She yawned, stretched, and then decided it was time to get up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slipped her feet into her fluffy red slippers and walked to the door, where she took her dressing gown off the hanger and slipped into it, relishing the feel of it's warmth. She grabbed her wand from her bedside table and then made her way downstairs.

Sat at the dining room table, a steaming cup of tea in hand, she leafed her way through the daily prophet - not that there was anything worth seeing. The once infamous newspaper had had a turnaround after the war, as people no longer wanted to buy something which had been proven to constantly and consistently churn out stories full of lies and fabrications. Realising this, the new management had fired the journalists responsible and vowed to only ever print the cold hard truth from that day forward. Hermione thought it had definitely been the right and responsible thing to do, but Gods, it didn't half make for some boring news.

Her focus was drawn away from the newspaper at the sound of an owl tapping on the kitchen window. She stood up, walked over and pulled up the sash, smiling as she let the familiar brown bird inside. Harry's familiar brown bird.

Sure enough, tied to its leg was a note from Harry, and Hermione's smile grew even larger when she read it.

 _Hermione,_

 _How would you like to meet me and Ginny for lunch today? Say, 1 o'clock? We could go to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream afterwards. It would be nice to catch up with you - it feels like we haven't seen you in forever. Send a reply back with Comet._

 _Love, Harry_

Hermione scribbled a quick reply on the back of the parchment, telling Harry that yes, she would love to meet him and Ginny today, and could they please meet her outside of Flourish and Blotts? She sent Comet on his way and then finished off her cup of tea.

Glad that she wouldn't be stuck inside all day, Hermione went about the rest of her morning with a smile on her face.

Bored of his mothers daily nagging for him to do something productive rather than just sit around all day, Draco had taken to strolling along Diagon Alley most afternoons. He never bought much - the occasional book or gift for mother being the exceptions. Instead, he had taken up people watching.

He supposed some might find it creepy, but he enjoyed seeing other people just going about their daily business. Buying presents, supplies and trinkets and dressed in their own individual styles, everybody was all so different, and Draco found it fascinating to watch. Must be the scientist in him, he thought.

Today though, he felt a little more antsy than usual. He felt like he needed a little peace and quiet. Usually, he enjoyed the buzz of a crowded coffee shop or a bustling cafe, because he had found that the more he was out in public, the more people became accustomed to the sight of him. But today, he felt like he wanted somewhere truly quiet and lonely.

He checked his watch. Half past 12.

He reached Flourish and Blotts within five minutes, and heard the faint tinkling of a bell as he opened the door. A man scurried out of a back room and stood straight backed and proper behind the front desk.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man asked.

"No, thank you," said Draco flatly.

Noting his dismissal, the man scurried back to whatever he had been doing previously, and Draco made his way upstairs.

He made his way through the aisles towards the muggle studies section. Despite his stint being involved with Muggle science coming to an end a while ago, Draco still found himself fascinated by it - and it wasn't like he would find any Muggle books in his library at Malfoy manor.

Muggles, he had come to realise, had discovered just as much - if not more - about the world as witches and wizards had. The two groups had just been discovering things in different areas was all, and Draco wanted to know about it all.

He found a suitably interesting book and sat himself down on one of the many armchairs dotted around the shop.

After about ten minutes, he was drawn away from a paragraph about the discovery of the atom. The source of the distraction was a shuffling sound from behind the bookcase nearest to him. He simply rolled his eyes and went back to reading. It was probably just some nosey idiot wanting to see if it really was the infamous Draco Malfoy. Would he ever be able to get any bloody peace?

Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she stood outside of Flourish and Blotts. It was five past 1 - where were Harry and Ginny? Huffing and folding her arms across her chest, Hermione registered that there were other things her mother had passed down to her - a distain for lateness being one of them.

She sighed with relief as she spotted the familiar shock of messy, jet black hair making its way through a nearby crowd. And sure enough, just next to it was an equally familiar head of bright ginger.

"Hey, Hermione!" shouted Ginny, a grin stretched across her face. Hermione felt herself match the young girls expression, just as the flame haired witch launched herself at her.

"Ginny," Hermione giggled as she struggled in her friend's affectionate embrace, "get off me so I can actually say hello to you both!"

"Oh yeah," the other witch laughed, "sorry 'bout that."

"Hey Hermione" said Harry, smiling at the display of affection between his wife and his best friend.

"Hi Harry, how are you?" Hermione asked as she reached up to hug him.

"I'm just great, how about you?" he asked in reply.

Hermione thought for a second before she answered.

"You know, I'm actually feeling quite good today," she answered.

"Good," Ginny chimed in, and then she said mischievously, "so no more being angsty over the whole Malfoy situation?"

Hermione's smile fell and she threw her head back and growled in exasperation.

"Ugh, for goodness sake Gin, why did you have to bring that up again?" she said, hating the whiny tone her voice had now taken on.

"I'm only messing with you 'Mione," Ginny laughed, "I know you just want me to leave it, and I will... Eventually."

Hermione let her smile return out of amusement at her friend's teasing. That was, until she remembered what had happened about 15 minutes earlier.

"Actually, listen to this," she said, pulling the other two to walk with her towards a cafe that was nearby. "I was reading before -"

"Of course you were," said Harry in a playful voice. Hermione ignored him.

"Yes, well anyway, I was reading a book about the history of wand making, enjoying the peace and quiet, until who do I see coming up the stairs? Draco bloody Malfoy," she said, "and you'll never guess what he was reading."

"What?" said Harry and Ginny in unison.

"A book about Muggle science," she said incredulously. "I even went over to have a peek from behind a book case, just to check it really was him and I hadn't actually gone insane," she finished, hoping they wouldn't choose to pick up on the fact that she had essentially been spying on Draco Malfoy, her supposed 'soulmate'.

"Merlin," said Ginny, "and you're sure it was him? Not a secret 'less-hateful-towards-all-things-muggle' twin or something?"

"Absolutely positive," said Hermione definitively.

"Huh," mused Ginny, "isn't that strange..."

They slipped into a comfortable silence for a minute until they reached the cafe, where they were seated at a table near the window on the second floor, looking out at the street below.

They each ordered from the menu, ignoring the stares and whispers from their fellow diners. Being The Boy Who Lived (twice) and two of the wars greatest Heroines came with stares and whispers as part of the package - they had all learned to block it out.

"You know," Harry said after a minute, interrupting Hermione and Ginny's catching-up session, "it makes sense."

Confused, Hermione asked him what he meant.

"I just mean, it's not so strange for Malfoy to be reading a Muggle book," (he noticed the two women's' dubious looks) "no really, I mean, last I heard he's just got back from a year in America. I asked someone in work about it the other day, and they said it had something to do with science, something about... a muggle-magical merger? I don't know, I didn't think much of it at the time - thought he must have been on about the wrong guy," he finished with a shrug.

Hermione nodded, and Harry and Ginny launched into a conversation about Ron and Pansy, which she tried to keep up with. Her mind though, was now filled with questions. What was Malfoy doing dabbling in Muggle science? What was he doing half way across the world for a year? And had he... Changed? At this, she shook her head. No, she thought, if there was one thing she knew about that man, it was that Malfoy would never really change.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: usual disclaimers apply**

 **A.N: Sorry again about the wait... You're probably all a little bit sick of me now, sorry. I should probably make it clear that the waits between chapters will be about this long from now on - Sixth form is a lot of work, I don't usually have much time to write, so sorry about that... Again, haha. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's more of a kind of set up chapter to prepare for the next one, because I know that if I'd just ploughed ahead with the next one people would have had some questions. So... Yeah, I hope you like it, and since I'm feeling inspired, I'll try very hard to get the next chapter written and posted either tonight or more likely tomorrow night, just as an apology. Please review - hearing your thoughts makes my day!**

Hermione looked into the mirror, checking her reflection for the tenth time that morning. It was May 2nd, and she wished she were in bed.

Four years earlier, to the day, the most feared and hated wizard of all time had been defeated. For most people, today was a day for celebration - they could relish their freedom and be happy in the knowledge that they were safe.

For many others, however, today was much harder to get through.

While she knew today was meant to be a celebration, she could never quite manage to be... Celebratory. Too many of her friends had died on this day, and every year she just felt numb and tired and exactly like she had at the end of the final battle - overjoyed and happy to be alive, but grief stricken over the multitude of losses they had all suffered.

This year, they were all going to Ron and Pansy's house, which Hermione had helped them to move into a few months before. It was modestly sized, as they had both insisted that they would rather live in something they had worked to earn, rather than it being paid for with Pansy's family's wealth. Situated on the Cornish coast, it was surrounded by picturesque views and salty sea air - Hermione loved visiting them and just sitting out on their porch watching the rolling waves.

Breaking away from her daydreaming, Hermione pulled her wild curls back from her face and examined the bags under her eyes before using one of the beauty spells she had finally decided to learn to make herself look more awake.

Although she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and not wake up until May 3rd, Hermione knew she would regret it if she didn't go.

In 1998, she had ended this night surrounded by her adopted family - Harry, Ron, the Weasleys and everyone else - as they all recuperated and tried to process what had happened to them. There had been tears, hugs, smiles, sobs and every other raw human emotion it was possible to express, and to be without them all today just felt... Wrong, somehow. Like something was missing.

So Hermione stood in front of the mirror, looked herself over once more and tried to pull herself together.

It was going to be a rough day.

Crookshanks rubbed up against her shin, and Hermione managed a smile.

She would make it through; she was Hermione Granger, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco hadn't been looking forward to this day. It was his first anniversary of the Battle whilst on British soil, and Pansy wanted to meet up with him for lunch.

Whilst he was glad he had Pansy back in his life, as he'd quite missed her familiar and easy company, he wasn't so sure how he felt about her newfound... Affiliates.

If there was one person who got on his nerves more than anyone else, it was Ronald Weasley.

Draco almost groaned at the thought of having to see him again, and he was positive that no amount of pleading or reasoning on Pansy's part could ever make the two of them be civil, let alone friendly.

Merlin, that was a scary thought.

He was just glad he would get to see Pansy on her own today, with no weasels in sight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At midday, Draco was outside in the May sunshine, feeling it's warmth wash over him. He was sat down outside of Florean Fortescues, waiting for Pansy to arrive. He'd been there for ten minutes already, and was starting to get a little bit irritated - he couldn't stand it when people were late.

As he looked up from the table, he was momentarily blinded by a beam of light reflected towards his face. Squinting as he tried to regain his vision, he was pleased to find a Pansy shaped shadow fall over him, helping him deal with his temporary blindness.

He blinked for a few more moments before looking up to greet her. As he stood up, he saw her handbag. Her shiny, reflective handbag. He smiled to himself and decided not to bring it up - she was always a good debater. She'd probably convince him it was his fault for looking up at that precise moment rather then hers for having a ridiculous handbag.

"Hey Pans," he said as he enveloped her in a hug reserved exclusively for old friends, "how've you been?"

"Hey Draco," she smiled sadly, pulling away and sitting down, "I've been good, I guess. Great really, just... Not so much today."

Draco felt momentarily confused. Pansy hadn't lost anyone majorly significant in the final battle. She and her remaining family had retreated to her house for most of the battle, and hadn't emerged since most of the fallout had subsided. But then realisation hit him like a truck - Weasley. Of course she wasn't her usual bubbly self; she was... Involved... with a war hero, and she was largely considered to have been on the other side of that particular coin.

She must really love him, he thought to himself, if she's willing to deal with all of the inevitable judgement from other people.

Noticing his silence, Pansy dipped her head to catch Draco's eye, pulling him away from his thoughts.

"I forgot you used to do that," she said, a faint hint of amusement in her voice.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Zone out," she replied, "you just seem to get so wrapped up in your thoughts. Where do you go?"

"I was just... I don't know, thinking," he said dismissively.

She looked at him for a moment, and then changed the subject.

"How's your mother?"

"She's okay, I guess. She's seems a little off today, but I suppose just about everyone feels like that today," he answered, quite unsure why he had steered the conversation back to the significance of today. He hoped she didn't pick up on it.

"Yeah.." she said, suddenly sounding a little apprehensive, "about today... You see, I was wondering - well Ron gave me the idea actually, he said he didn't want me to feel out of place today, but I just wondered, you know, if you don't mind -"

"Spit it out Pans," he prompted.

"Well, there's this... Get-together today," she began, and Draco felt his eyebrows rise fractionally. He nodded slowly as a signal for her to continue.

"It's at mine and Ron's place, out in the country. It's sort of a memorial thing, you know, for the Battle? But yeah, there's going to be some people there... Mostly War Heroes I imagine, and I just... Will you come?"

Draco was stunned into silence. Had he heard her correctly?

"W- Hang on, what?" he spluttered, suddenly filled with a familiar feeling of dread.

Pansy sighed and rested her forehead on the heel of her palm, her elbow leaning on the edge of the small table. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, looking Draco dead in the eye.

"I want you to come to mine and Ron's house today, because I personally want you to be there. This is my first time doing the whole memorial thing with all of Ron's family and everyone and... I just feel so out of place," she said. "I feel like I need someone more familiar there with me, just so I don't feel like the odd one out... Do you understand?"

Draco was silent for a second. How on earth would they all have agreed to allow him to be there? Did they even know she was asking him? Would he even consider going at all?

"Do they- Do they know you're asking me this?" he spluttered.

"Ron does," she said slowly, "and Mrs Weasley."

"Mrs Weasley?!" he exclaimed, feeling well and truly confused. "How on earth did she agree to let me, of all people, be there? You do know who I am don't you?"

"Yes," said Pansy, suddenly very serious, "you're one of my best friends in the whole world, and the Weasleys and everyone else are aware of that. They have decided to try and accept that if I am going to be a part of their life, then they also have to come to terms with the parts of me they may not like... Including my friends and family."

Truly gobsmacked, Draco leant back in his chair. This didn't feel real. It couldn't be. So much had changed while he had been gone, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Pansy was with a Weasley, the Weasleys were trying to be open-minded and Hermione bloody Granger was his... No, she couldn't be. He'd already decided it must have been a mistake - there was no point in revisiting that particular bombshell.

"You don't have to... Socialise," Pansy offered, "you don't even have to come inside, you can sit on the back porch if you really want to-"

"Gosh, thanks a lot-"

"But I just really want you there," she said, ignoring his interruption, "I need my friend to be there for me. The Weasleys have said it's okay, but they did tell me to say they they're doing this for my benefit, not yours," she added, eliciting a snort from Draco.

"Trust me," he said, "I never considered any part of this as being for my benefit."

"So... Will you come?" she asked, rubbing her forearm like he knew she did whenever she was nervous.

He was about to tell her that he would much rather not, when he looked her in the eye and saw tears threatening to spill over.

Shit. He was powerless against Pansy's tears - he always had been.

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temple, all the while deciding that today would probably be one of the worst days in history.

"Okay," he said quietly, "but just for an hour or so."

Pansy smiled a watery smile, which very slightly alleviated Draco's building anxiety.

He was doing it for his friend.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: usual disclaimers apply**

 **A.N: okay, I know I said I'd probably be updating the next day, but this chapter was surprisingly difficult to write - I felt like everything I did needed justification somewhere, so it took a while to get it sounding alright. I still haven't found my laptop charger either - this chapter was also written on my phone, so... Apologies for any mistakes I may have missed! Hope you like it, and please review - I love reading your comments and feedback :) Oh and by the way, I've changed this chapter slightly upon re-reading to make it so that Fred didn't die - the thought didn't occur to me until just now. I always prefer fics where Fred and George get to stay together.**

Ron and Pansy's house was, in no uncertain terms, one of the most beautiful places Hermione had ever seen. As she approached the whitewashed building along the sandy path from the beach, she admired how it seemed to glisten and sparkle in the light of the setting sun, and how the sound and smell of the sea made her think of childhood holidays to the beach. Everything about it made her happy, and usually she loved her visits here. Today, however, she felt her melancholy build with each step she took.

She had to remind herself why she was doing this, otherwise she might have run back down to the beach and found a cave to sit in, so she ran through reasons in her head.

One: it was technically a celebration. They had beaten Voldemort and today was a day to celebrate that as best as they could.

Two: she was here to be with friends. She could support them and try and make them feel better about today, even if she didn't feel great about it herself.

Three: she supposed it would probably be good for her. She, along with everyone else, had to try and heal following the war, and being here today would be another step in the right direction.

So she carried on walking, and eventually reached the front door. She was about to knock, when Pansy flung the door open.

"Finally," she said, half exasperated and (from what Hermione could tell) half relieved.

"I've been watching you walk up that path for about ten minutes!"

Hermione smiled halfheartedly at her friend's teasing. She could tell Pansy was nervous, and she could understand why. A year ago, she wouldn't have been welcome among everyone else - she was an outsider, a newcomer, a... well, a Slytherin. Hermione knew that the old house rivalries meant nothing now, but a few of the others had yet to get their heads around the idea.

"Well are you coming in or not?" asked Pansy.

Hermione stepped over the threshold and was greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread, and something which smelled a lot like Mrs Weasleys famous stew. Hermione made a mental note to ask Pansy whether or not she'd finally managed to wrangle the recipe out of her.

Turning left, she entered the large living room, where many, many familiar faces were congregated.

Harry, Ginny and a snoozing Teddy occupied the love seat, while Ron, Percy and Neville sat on the sofa. Standing next to the window watching the last of the sunset was Luna, while Mr Weasley was stood near the piano, next to Bill. Fred and George stood over by the bookcase, talking quietly between themselves. The others, she assumed, must be in the kitchen.

As she walked further into the room, one by one people noticed her arrival and stood to greet her, until practically the whole room was on its feet. She let out a quiet chuckle at the sight, then went and hugged everyone individually, muttering greetings into people's chests and shoulders as she went. Something about seeing them all together, happy and not in any immediate danger brought a smile to her face - it was, after all, a fairly new occurrence.

"Hey everyone," she said as she squashed up next to Neville on the sofa, "how's it been so far?"

"Alright," shrugged Harry, "as good as can be expected I suppose. Teddy's finally getting old enough to really understand what happened now, so me and Ginny sat down and talked to him a little bit about it this morning - just the general idea, nothing detailed. He dealt really well, all things considered," he said, smiling down at the little blue haired boy in Ginny's arms.

The sight made Hermione's heart swell - Harry and Ginny were fantastic parents to Teddy. After Remus and Tonks had died, the newborn had gone to live with Andromeda, but they had both gotten a little lonely being on their own in her house, and so after about six months Harry and Ginny had offered for Andromeda and Teddy to go and live with them. As a family, they worked brilliantly. Andromeda taught and looked after Teddy during the day while the other two went out to work, and in the evenings they all say down to dinner together. Hermione had been over there so many times, just to enjoy the atmosphere of love and kindness that they had created there.

"Yeah," Ron added, "a few less tears all round, I think."

"Good," she said, "I'm glad."

She turned to Neville and the rest of the room went back to their conversations.

"So," she said, "how're you Neville? I feel like I haven't seen you in years."

"I know," he replied, smiling at her kindly, "I've missed you Hermione. Life just seems to get in the way, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," she sighed, thinking about the ongoing stress of her job and the recent soulmate debacle, "it sure does."

The two were quiet for a moment, listening in to the others' conversations. Suddenly, a confused expression graced Neville's features.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Draco Malfoy is here?" he asked her.

Hermione stopped breathing for a second.

"W-what?" she gasped, "He's here? Now?"

"Yeah," Neville replied, "he arrived a while ago and went straight out onto the porch. I was going to ask the others, but none of them seemed to question it, so I left it alone."

Hermione felt beyond confused. Why on earth was he here? And on today of all days! Why didn't the others kick him out? Did they know he was coming? Why was- wait, if the others all knew, why didn't she? Given the circumstances of late, she thought that she of all people deserved to know if Draco Malfoy was going to be turning up for dinner. None of it made any sense, and suddenly she could feel anger building up, bubbling away in the pit of her stomach.

"Excuse me, Neville, I just have to go and speak to Pansy for a second," she muttered, her face pale.

"Sure," replied Neville, looking slightly worried, "you go ahead."

She walked out of the living room and towards the kitchen, ignoring the stares of the others as she went. She could hear Pansy and Mrs Weasley talking to each other about recipes.

Entering the kitchen, she was bombarded by a whole host of delicious scents and sights. Fresh, hot bread sat on the counter, and a large pot of stew was bubbling on the stove. Hermione could see a carrot cake sat on the side ready to go into the oven.

At the sight of her, Mrs Weasley rushed over to give Hermione the biggest, warmest hug she had received in a long while - it was so nice that she almost forgot why she had gone into the kitchen in the first place. She soon remembered though, when she saw the guilty look on Pansy's face.

"Hermione dear, it's been so long, how are you?" Mrs Weasley said, still in a loving tone but evidently less energetic than usual - It had been a tiring day, after all.

"Good," Hermione replied, trying to quash any hints of anger that might be evident in her voice, "I've been okay."

"You look thin," the Weasley matriarch continued, looking Hermione up and down, "have you been eating well enough? I do hope you're looking after yourself dear," she said, sounding much more like the normal Mrs Weasley. Hearing it made Hermione smile.

"I'm fine Molly, really," she said gently, patting the woman's arm and smiling kindly.

Pansy, apparently, had had enough of the pleasantries and decided it was time to interject - she never had been one for small talk.

"Mrs Weasley, would you mind if me and Hermione went outside for just a second?" she asked.

"Goodness, of course not love - and for the hundredth time, please call me Molly," she replied with an amused smile.

Pansy laughed.

"Sorry Molly" she chuckled, as she led Hermione out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where she shut the door behind them. She turned around, only to find the curly haired witch glaring daggers at her.

"What," Hermione seethed, "is Draco bloody Malfoy doing here?!"

"Look, 'Mione, please don't be angry, it's actually nothing to do with you," she implored, but Hermione took her words slightly the wrong way.

"Nothing to do with me?" she said incredulously, "this has everything do with me! You were there with me - you know exactly how I feel about... About... HIM! I want nothing to do with all this soulmate nonesense and I-"

"This isn't about that!" Pansy said, interrupting Hermione's rant, "this is about me not wanting to be the odd one out today. It's hard for me, you know? I mean, I know it's hard for everyone, and even harder for some people in particular, but I just..." she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"You just what, Pansy," Hermione said impatiently.

The raven haired witch thought for a moment, before she found the right way to make her case.

"I just feel like everyone else is on common ground today, you know? They were all right there, in the battle. I didn't even have a side really - we just hid away at home until it ended... And I know the Draco was there too but... He was my best friend, 'Mione," she said, looking desperately at her friend, "he understands how I felt, because he was there with me, you know? We were both excluded from the winning team."

Hermione thought on her friend's words. What Pansy said was true, to an extent. She wasn't there at the forefront of war, so it would be hard for her to relate to everyone else's experiences. Malfoy too, while he had actually been at the battle, had been skulking around with his own personal agenda, avoiding the main fights.

"It was Ron's idea actually, to invite one of my old friends," Pansy said, looking down at the floor where she was nervously rubbing her foot onto the carpet.

Hermione was stunned. Ronald Weasley, a boy she had known to have been completely inept when it came to the subtleties of human emotion, had apparently turned into a man who was the complete opposite. Putting up with the presence of his childhood enemy in his own home, just for the sake of his partner's happiness and comfort was a completely selfless thing to do, and Hermione was reminded of just how perfect Pansy and Ron were for each other.

That thought left a slightly heavy feeling in her stomach for some reason, but she just ignored it and decided to make her peace with the whole situation.

"Okay," she sighed, "I can deal with it, but just for you, not because I like him or anything."

"Thank you," Pansy said, smiling gratefully at her friend, "it really means a lot. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner by the way," she added quickly, "I just didn't know how was best to go about telling you and then it was getting closer and closer so I just... Left it. You know me, always a procrastinator."

"It's fine honestly," Hermione said, all remnants of her earlier anger having been replaced by a tired kind of sadness, "let's just go and get started."


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no profits from this, and all recognisable characters, places etc. are the property of J.K.**

 **A.N: Apologies for the wait everyone! I had major writer's block with this chapter; I wanted it to be perfect, which inevitably lead to me not being able to write anything at all! Thank you for all your lovely reviews and comments - getting them through in my emails makes my day :) I hope you like this** **\- it's about 1,000 words longer than usual!**

Dinner went surprisingly well, in Hermione's opinion. No shouting, no fighting, no arguments - just a nice meal shared among friends... and Malfoy. She had expected some discomfort due to the former Slytherin's presence, but everyone (except Pansy) completely ignored him, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Once they had all gotten seated and ready, some solemn and heartfelt words were shared, honouring all of the amazing friends they had lost along the way. Hermione felt herself tear up at this point - she hadn't allowed herself too long to dwell upon the significance of the day before that point, but being there, with all of her favourite people in the whole world (ignoring Malfoy that is), she couldn't stop a few tears from escaping.

The food was, of course, delicious. She hadn't expected anything less from a Mrs Weasley recipe. She had stolen a quick glance in Malfoy's direction about halfway through, just to glare at him, but despite his permanent scowl even he seemed to be enjoying the food - it was hard not to, in all fairness.

The meal had lasted about and hour and a half, and at 9:30 they were all sat crowded together in the living room. There were people on windowsills, some on cushions on the floor and about six of them were squashed onto the sofa, while a sleeping Teddy had the entire love seat to himself. The one exception from the pleasant scene, Hermione noted, was a certain blonde. Malfoy had disappeared straight after the meal had ended. There had been a quick discussion between Pansy her friend which Hermione assumed must have been him saying goodbye, because she hadn't seen him since. Good riddance, she thought, as she tried to quash the tiniest spark of a peculiar and alien emotion - one which she decided was up for review at a later date.

She surveyed the room from her vantage point on the windowsill, where she sat with the right side of her body pressed against the cool panes of glass. Harry, Ginny and Pansy were absorbed in a highly amusing conversation, and their laughter carried through the small room. Ron and Luna were talking quietly, and it appeared that Luna had said something unconventional once again, as Hermione could see Ron's nose scrunch up and his brows furrow while she continued to talk, all the while looking at her with an amused smile. Fred, George and Neville were reminiscing about their schooldays - Neville was chuckling heartily about some prank or another while the twins tried to explain how they carried it off, and Mr and Mrs Weasley were sat cuddled together at the end of the sofa, watching those around them with love in their eyes.

Suddenly Hermione felt a pang of... something. She found that the air had been knocked from her and she didn't quite know why, just that all of a sudden she felt suffocated. Not physically of course - she was still sat in Pansy and Ron's front room, perfectly still and breathing as normal, but it was as if sadness had reached its cold, hard hand inside her chest and snaked its fingers around her heart. Something was missing from this picture perfect scene - her parents weren't with her. Everyone was talking, having fun and enjoying one another's company, and here she was, sat of the sidelines and suddenly feeling her parents' absence ten times more than usual.

Shaking slightly with the effort of pulling herself back together to stay strong in front of the others, she stood up from the window ledge and brushed herself off, before making a mumbled comment about going outside for some fresh air. There were a few questioning glances thrown her way, so she smiled around at them all as she left in order to try and eliminate any suspicion or worry - she didn't want to bring down the mood.

Once out of the living room, she practically sprinted towards the porch. She reached the back door in seconds and flung it open with more force than was probably necessary, then stepped out into the salty sea air. She took a deep, deep breath to try and savour the feel of it against her skin - cooling ripples that seemed to wash away at least a little of her sadness.

All too suddenly though, she was distracted from the calming sea breeze by the distinct feeling that she was being watched. She turned her head slowly to the side and sure enough, sat on a white, plastic garden chair, was Malfoy. She looked into his stormy grey eyes as he glowered at her and she felt herself tense up; it was like being watched by a wolf. As they held each others' gazes, Hermione felt the back of her neck start to grow warm and her cheeks go red due to the intensity of the moment.

Both of them stayed in complete silence for a minute or so, until Malfoy broke eye contact, growled deeply and rested his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the plastic seat.

He looked outwards towards the crashing waves, seeming much more resigned and weary without his trademark glare. Hermione wasn't even aware that she was still stood up, let alone that she was still staring at the blonde - it was as if her entire brain had just stopped in its tracks. So when he spoke, breaking the bubble of silence that had encased them both, she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Granger, do us both a favour and stop staring at me," he drawled.

She came to her senses fairly quickly in order to deny the accusation.

"Don't be ridiculous, I wasn't staring at you!" she said, trying to sound incredulous but knowing that technically she actually had been staring.

Malfoy seemed to know this too - he turned his head slightly, still with it resting on his hand, looked her in the eye and quirked one eyebrow upwards.

"Really? Because in my experience, looking at someone for an extended period of time counts as staring," he said simply, but with an air of impatience.

"Actually, I wasn't, because -"

"You know what," he interrupted, "I'm not having this blatantly pointless conversation. You obviously came out here for a reason, or you wouldn't have nearly thrown the back door off it's hinges."

Hermione scowled at him.

"So," he continued, sounding irritated, "just do whatever it was you were going to do - I won't get in your way."

He went back to his earlier position - eyes closed, chin in his hand, facing out towards the sea. Hermione huffed and then assessed her options.

She could either go back inside, where the root of her current problem was and risk a breakdown in front of her friends, or stay outside for a while to calm herself down. Ordinarily, she would have gone for the latter option without question - however, her current situation was anything other than ordinary, and with Malfoy's strange presence on the porch both options seemed equally as unappealing. Something though, something she couldn't quite explain or describe, made her want to sit down on one of those white plastic chairs, mere metres away from her childhood nemesis. Perhaps, she thought, it was her insatiable curiosity - in recent weeks, she had heard varying reports of Malfoy's character and personality. It only made sense for her to want to check their validity - purely scientific and reasonable.

So she reluctantly walked away from the back door, moved to the opposite side of the porch, faced her chair outwards towards the sea and sat down with a sigh.

"Finally," she heard him mutter, "I thought you were going to stand there thinking forever - I could almost hear the bloody cogs turning."

Hermione blushed, but refused to rise to his taunt. She had come outside for some fresh air, calm, and possibly a little bit of clarity. Not an argument with a slimy little ferret.

Her internal insult almost made her laugh.

After his quip, neither of them said anything for a good few minutes, choosing instead to listen intently to the sound of the water lapping up against the shoreline. On the plus side, this meant that she didn't have to acknowledge the presence of her supposed soulmate. However, it did mean that she was left to her own thoughts, and these quickly turned, to her frustration, to the topic of Malfoy.

Surely, she thought, they couldn't possibly be soulmates - they had been in each others presence for a minimum of about five minutes, and already they had argued over something petulant and insignificant. There was absolutely no way they would even be able to be civil towards each other, let alone be joined by their souls. She scoffed at the idea. Her and Malfoy, soulmates. It was laughable.

However, she thought to herself, she was curious. Not about anything romantic, Merlin no; about why he had suddenly taken an interest in muggles. This was confusing for Hermione, and she had never enjoyed being confused. She tried to hold back her curiosity, to occupy her mind with something else, but the question seemed to burn on her tongue until-

"Why were you reading a book about muggles?" she blurted out suddenly.

He looked around at her, momentarily taken aback, before his icy walls rebuilt and he donned his familiar emotionless expression.

"Which book," he drawled, "there are quite a few of them."

"In Flourish and Blotts," she mumbled, embarrassed at her sudden outburst, "the Muggle science one."

Suddenly his face broke out into a cruel smirk.

"Spying on me, are we Granger?"

Hermione's fading blush came back full force, until she felt like her whole face was hot with embarrassment and indignation.

"I was not spying!" she exclaimed, knowing full well that what she had been doing could technically be considered spying, "I just saw you with the book, that's all!"

"Alright Granger, don't get your knickers in a twist," he said sneeringly, "I don't know why you're so interested anyway, I was just reading."

"Yes but _Muggles_ ," she emphasised, "I thought you always thought of Muggles as the 'scum of the earth'," she said, imitating his voice.

Malfoy's smirk crumbled, and he looked at Hermione with anger in his eyes - whatever came next would come dangerously close to an admission of fault.

"I... my..." he tried to think of the least humiliating response or excuse, before swallowing his pride and deciding to come (mostly) clean.

"My views and opinions have... shifted, somewhat, over the last year," he ground out, and upon seeing the confused look on her face, he elaborated. "I've been working on a project in America - they're trying to come up with ways of fusing Muggle and Magical science. You can't work on something like that and not end up with a sort of... respect for it."

Hermione was shocked - the rumours had been true. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and Pureblood elitist, had been working willingly on Muggle science - for a whole year.

She stared at him open-mouthed. Hermione Granger was, uncharacteristically, speechless.

The blonde rolled his eyes.

"Alright Granger," he said agitatedly, "its not like I've sprouted another fucking head, you can shut you mouth now."

She did. They returned to their former silence, and the cogs in Hermione's brain started whirring at double speed. She wanted to know more, to ask more, but something told her that the small step towards rationality that Malfoy had taken could easily be reversed. She didn't want to push him back towards prejudice and hatred - for everyone's sake. The world needed a little less hate, anyway. So she decided to simply acknowledge what he had told her.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, breaking the silence, "that's all I wanted to know."

She looked out of the corner of her eye at Malfoy's confused expression, and then down at her watch, which read 10:48.

Time to go home, she thought to herself.

Just as she was about to stand up, Malfoy spoke.

"Granger," he said tentatively yet slightly irritably, like he didn't really want to say anything at all, "why did you come out here?"

Caught off guard, she sat completely still, thinking for a moment. It was a question she didn't really want to answer, but she reasoned that since he had answered her, she kind of owed him the same.

"I... I just...", she sighed and then continued, "I just felt a little like the odd one out when I was sat in there, like everyone else was content and full up, like they had everything they needed and I had something missing."

She winced at the truthfulness of her own statement. She never thought, in a million years, she would ever reveal something so weak and personal to Draco Malfoy, of all people. However, it appeared that the floodgates had opened, and, to her own horror, she continued talking as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"I don't know," she rushed out, trying desperately to keep her voice from cracking, "it just feels a little like everyone else in there had a purpose except for me, you know? Like, everyone in there had a place, someone else to talk to, something to look forward to; I was just kind of... there. I hate my job, I hate today, I just..."

She didn't know why she said it - it must have been a combination of her sudden outburst and the multiple glasses of wine - but before she could stop herself, four words fell from her lips.

"I miss my parents."

Draco looked at her, dumbfounded. Suddenly a frustrated expression took over his features.

"You know what Granger," he said forcefully, "if your life is so shit that you're out here talking to me about it, why not make a fucking change? This is what annoys me about other people, they never try and change their circumstances, they just spend their time complaining about them!"

Hermione stared at him, angry at herself for saying anything and angry at him for shouting at her, but he continued before she could say anything to him.

"If you hate your job, then quit! If you feel like you don't have purpose, then try something new for a change! And if you miss your parents, why not just visit them!" he exclaimed.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart stopped and she felt like she had been stabbed in the side. Feeling tears start to build again, she let them spill over freely now - she couldn't care less about if he saw or what he thought of her.

"I can't just visit them!" she shouted, "I can't call them, I can't write to them, I can't hear their voices anymore - I can't do anything! And do you know why?" she choked out, " It's because they're dead! And there's nothing I can do about it!"

A deafening silence descended on the porch.

Suddenly, Draco was able to see the line, and he could also see that he had definitely crossed it.

"Granger I-"

"No!" she shouted, "I don't want an apology and I definitely don't want pity - you don't get to decide how I deal with things, you don't get to do that! I will not take advice from a slimy, arrogant, judgemental arsehole like you!"

This time it was Draco's turn to get annoyed.

"Look," he said, barely containing his anger, "I'm sorry that your parents... I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm sorry about what I said, but you don't get to talk to me like that! And you definitely do not have the right to make judgements on my character - you know nothing about me!"

"Yes I do!" she retorted hotly, "you're a mean, spiteful man who only cares about himself. You bullied me all the way through school based on a whole load of lies your arrogant, horrid father taught you, and you just churned them back out at people like some kind of idiot, never pausing for a second to actually think about what you were saying!" To hell with not pushing him over the edge - she was too upset to care. "You're just as bad as your father was!"

By now, Draco was seeing red.

"Don't you dare bring my father into this," he seethed. "I am not him, and I will never do anything the way he did it. Over the past ten years he brought nothing but pain and suffering to me and my mother, and I can never forgive him for that. Yes, I was a dick when I was thirteen, but newsflash Granger, I'm not a stupid teenager anymore. I can make my own choices, and my father can go to hell for all I care. But you don't get to to talk about him, or my mother, or me, because you don't know anything about any of us!" he exploded.

Hermione knew she had touched a nerve. She desperately wanted to say something equally as scathing back, but she was mentally and physically exhausted. Her emotions had been running rampant all day - anxiety, worry, happiness, anger, confusion, love, grief - she felt well and truly used up.

So instead of replying to him, she sighed, forced herself up out of the chair and walked back inside, leaving Malfoy behind to rage to himself.

She walked back into the living room, where Harry and Ginny were packing up their things, with Teddy fast asleep in Molly's arms.

Luna noticed Hermione come back in, and the blonde smiled her warmly and (to Hermione's slight discomfort) knowingly. She smiled back as best she could, whilst simultaneously trying not to seem like she had just been emotionally torn apart.

By this point, most of the room had realised she had returned, and a few made their way over to say goodbye before they left. Fred and George enveloped her in a huge hug, making her smile despite herself.

"We'll be around Diagon Alley most of tomorrow-" started George.

"-if you wanted to come and meet up with us?" finished Fred.

"I'll send you an owl," she replied with a smile, "I don't have anything planned, so I should be able to come and see you."

"Great!" they both said with a grin.

"See you 'Mione," Fred said, and they both stepped into the fireplace and flooed away, back to their flat above the shop.

Next came Harry and Ginny, who whispered their goodbyes, trying not to wake the snoring toddler.

"Bye 'Mione, we'll see you soon," said Harry, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek as Ginny pulled her into a light sideways hug. She waved them off along the garden path and then said a few more goodbyes. By 11:15, it was just her, Ron, Pansy, Molly and Arthur left. As Ron said goodbye to his parents, Pansy pulled Hermione out into the corridor.

"Did you talk to Draco?" Pansy asked worriedly.

"Did he tell you?" asked Hermione in return, sounding surprised and irritated.

Pansy sighed and tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling for a second.

"No. Did you fight?" she enquired apprehensively.

"Yes," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "not at first, but yes, we did fight."

"I'll talk to you about it tomorrow, I could come to your place tomorrow evening? You look like you could do with a good sleep," said Pansy.

"Yeah," sighed Hermione, "I'm exhausted; tomorrow evening sounds great, is four o'clock okay?"

"That's fine," the black haired witch said, pulling Hermione back towards the remaining guests. "Say goodbye and then get to bed, okay?" she whispered concernedly to her friend, "I hate seeing you so done in."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Half an hour later, Hermione was tucked up warmly in her bed, with Crookshanks nestled in against her stomach. She had wanted to stay awake and analyse the day's events, just like she usually did, but she had been simply too tired - she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

As she slept, an owl flew up to her bedroom window, which was cracked open slightly at the bottom to keep the room cool. The bird dropped the parchment it was carrying through the small gap and flew off into the night.

On the floor or Hermione's bedroom, moonlight illuminated the words on the slip of paper so that they seemed to glow in the darkness.

Granger,

I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to be so harsh.

D.M.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: usual disclaimers apply**

 **HI EVERYONE! Apologies are in order for the EXTREMELY long wait - life got in the way as usual, plus exams are NOT helpful for curing writers block (I had loads with this chapter). So to all who are continually putting up with my unreliability I thank you from the bottom of my heart 3 I have a few things planned for the future of this fic too - don't give up on me! I hope you all like this, and please review! Reading them makes my day 3**

Blaise Zabini didn't like being woken up. Not by his mother when he was little, not by the sun when it forced its way through the curtains - not even by his alarm clock for work.

So when he was woken with a start by some obnoxious idiot knocking on his door at one o'clock in the morning, he was not in a very welcoming mood.

He lay in bed listening to the knocking and wishing whoever it was would just give up. Once it became clear that they had no intention of leaving him alone, he stood up off the bed, huffing and crumbling to himself. He put on his dressing gown and descended the stairs angrily, speeding up as he got further down.

Once he reached the door, he flung it wide open and was just about to give whoever it was a piece of his mind when he saw a familiar head of bright, platinum hair.

"Draco," he said, sounding shocked.

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, one surprised and one scowling, and then Draco spoke.

"Are you going to let me in at any point? In case you hadn't noticed it's fucking chucking it down out here," he said irritably.

Blaise was too stunned to think of a witty comeback, so he just moved to the side to allow the blonde to enter.

As Draco made his way past him and towards the living room, Blaise shut the front door behind him. He was gradually coming round from the surprise of having Draco Malfoy turn up at his door after almost a year and a half without hearing from him. The cheek of him, thought Blaise. Who turns up after almost a year and a half of silence and thinks they can just waltz into someone else's house like it's their own?

He stepped into the living room just in time to see Draco pouring himself a drink from the bottle on the sideboard, and he lost it.

"What the fuck is this?", Blaise asked incredulously.

Draco stared.

"What the fuck is what?", the blonde replied, setting down his glass as he sat down on the sofa.

"You!" he shouted, "turning up at my house in the middle of the night! I haven't even heard from you in over a year, I had to find out from Potter that you were back in bloody England!"

"Why the hell were you talking to Potter?" Draco said, suddenly on the defensive. Blaise sighed deeply, throwing his head back in exasperation.

"That's not the point," he said, "and you need to put all that childhood rivalry shit behind you. The world's moved on Draco, so I don't want to hear any of your crap anymore. Pansy told me you've changed, but I don't know if I'm quite ready to believe it."

"I have actually," Draco retorted angrily, and I'll tell you about it if you'd untwist your knickers for just a minute."

Blaise sat down opposite him, still with a scowl on his face, and Draco started to tell him all about his year away and the changes that he'd inadvertently gone through.

He and Blaise had become close in their fifth year of Hogwarts, before Draco had been 'initiated' in his sixth. After that had happened, the pair quickly grew apart - Draco had become withdrawn and solitary, while Blaise had wanted to steer clear of the whole thing; he and his mother had chosen to remain neutral during the war. However, once everything had settled down again they had rekindled their friendship. Draco had reached out to Blaise, needing a friend when the whole world was giving him dirty looks and spitting at him as he walked past. So when he had turned up at Blaise's door that night, reeling from his argument and in dire need of someone to talk to, he hadn't expected Blaise to be this angry - he was usually the calmer and more measured half of Draco's two friends.

"Jheeze, so you really don't still believe that crap you used to spout off in school?" asked Blaise, evidently not prepared to believe him so easily.

"Well I'm no Dumbledore or anything," said Draco dryly, "but no, I don't."

The pair were silent for a moment, before Blaise remembered what else he had previously been angry about.

"Oh yeah," he said suddenly, a small scowl returning to his face, "how come you didn't write to me or anything?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Draco slightly uncomfortably, "I think I just needed to cut myself off for a while, you know? To try and sort my head out after what happened."

Blaise looked at his newly reinstated friend. He looked worn down, tired, and generally fed up. He still seemed a far cry better than when he'd seen him a few weeks after the final battle though, the day after his father had been sent to Askaban.

"Yeah," he answered after a minute, "I know what you mean. So how come you're here now then, was it just to come grovelling and to beg me to be your mate again?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Draco said without a hint of amusement, "and actually, no - I was at Pansy and Weasels house tonight-"

"Yeah, I know."

"Wait, how do you know?" Draco asked, genuinely curious, "Did Pansy tell you?"

"I have my sources," said Blaise with a smirk.

"Yeah, well anyway," he continued slowly, shooting Blaise a slightly suspicious look, "I was there for their stupid 'remembrance meal' thing or whatever, because Pansy practically begged me to go when we had lunch yesterday and-"

"You two had lunch without me?" Blaise butted in.

"Don't blow a fuse, you can come to the next one," the blonde said with a roll of his eyes. "And stop interrupting."

"Sorry," laughed Blaise.

"Anyway, I was just minding my own bloody business, outside and away from all of them, when who interrupts my one minute of peace? Fucking Granger."

"Hermione?"

"Yes you dolt, what other Grangers do you know? And don't call her that, it's weird when you say it," Draco said with a slight grimace.

Blaise just laughed again.

"So there she is, panting like she's run a fucking marathon, and when she sees me she nearly jumps higher than the bloody house."

"Did she sit down?"

"Of course she did, when did any of them ever pass up the chance to do my head in?" Draco said scathingly. "She sits there for a bit, and then somehow we end up talking for about two minutes before we start arguing. I forgot how easily irritated she gets," he said with a dry laugh.

"So then what?" prompted Blaise.

"So then I mention her parents, and she just stops what she's doing and starts screaming at me. I didn't have a clue, honestly, but it turns out they actually died about two years ago, just after the war ended. I checked with Pansy afterwards."

"Shit Draco, dead parents is a bit far, don't you think?" said Blaise with a grimace.

"I know," the blonde growled, followed by a deep sigh. "I mean I don't like the girl, and to be fair I didn't actually know, but even I know that that's just a shitty thing to do regardless of anything else."

"Don't you think-"

Blaise was cut off by a creaking noise above their heads.

"What was that?" asked Draco after a second.

"Floorboards," said Blaise with a frown. "I didn't really want to wake her up, but-"

"Who's up there?" asked Draco fervently, his curiosity sparked.

"L-"

"Oh hi Draco," came a voice from the doorway, "how are you?"

Stood at the entrance to the living room, dressed in what looked like a combination of multicoloured, fluffy pyjama bottoms and one of Blaise's work shirts, was none other than Luna Lovegood.

"Sorry love," Blaise apologised as the blonde haired witch came and sat cuddled against him, "didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay," she said sleepily, "I wasn't having a very nice dream, so I think I'd rather be awake anyway."

There was a peaceful sort of silence for a moment, until-

"No fucking way," said Draco, suddenly finding his voice. "You're with loon-" (Blaise slouched down, stretched his leg out and kicked his friend in the shin) "-Luna Lovegood? Am I even on the right bloody planet?"

"Yeah," Blaise said warningly, looking hard at his friend. "You're here on planet earth, with me - so watch what you say please."

Draco looked over at the former Ravenclaw, who didn't seem to have noticed the sudden tension in the room. Instead, she was gazing at the dark haired mans profile lovingly. Blaise seemed to sense her staring and turned around to return the look, his expression soft and his smile returning. Draco was just about to snort derisively when Luna suddenly turned her head, gazing at him inquisitively.

"How was your talk with Hermione, by the way?" she asked him, as if simply carrying on an earlier conversation.

Draco was taken aback for a second - partly by the girls sheer audacity and partly because he was shocked that she even knew in the first place. He flicked his eyes over to Blaise, who just looked back at him, the amusement and shock clearly written across his features.

"I- it-" Draco stuttered, still slightly shocked, before gathering his thoughts. "I just- how the fuck did you know?"

"Well-"

"I'll bet you any money Granger went crying to all of her little Gryffindor pals. Should I be expecting a little more hate mail than usual tomorrow? A howler or two maybe?" he said sarcastically and full of bitter resentment. Luna laughed.

"No silly," Luna said, (Draco didn't think he'd ever been called silly in his life) "it's just deduction." She stopped speaking, as if she thought that that amount of information would suffice, but upon seeing the puzzled faces of Blaise and Draco, she elaborated.

"It's simple really," she said, gesturing with her hands, "I first saw you leave straight after the meal, and I thought you'd left completely until I noticed Pansy go out of the back door and then come back in a few minutes later -"

"Yeah," Draco interrupted, "she came to ask me to come inside." He snorted derisively. "As if."

"Well yes, then a while later I noticed Hermione looked quite... sad. I wasn't sure why, and I was about to go and speak to her, but then she stood up and went out of the back door too."

"Well yeah, she did come out onto the porch, but how do you know we talked?" Draco asked impatiently. He had never been one for unnecessary details.

"Oh," she said, "well she came back inside a while later looking irritated but... sort of exhausted at the same time. And since you two have a little bit of a reputation for getting on each other's nerves, I assumed that you were still out there and that you'd more than likely talked to each other. Not to mention, it would be pretty hard to keep up an awkward silence out there together, given your current shared situation."

This time, it was Blaise's turn to be intrigued.

"What situation?" he said excitedly, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his lap.

Shit, Draco thought. In his frustration, he'd almost forgotten about that one particular shred of information.

"Draco and Hermione are soulmates," Luna said offhandedly, but with a slight mischievous glint in her eye.

"NO," Blaise gasped, looking between Draco and Luna with wide eyed astonishment. He always had been one for gossip. After about ten seconds, Blaise snapped out of his shock and fell back onto the sofa, clutching his stomach and guffawing.

"I-I can't... believe-that, after all those y-years-" Blaise managed to spit out between laughs.

"Yes, I know, I had in fact already noticed the startling irony there," Draco said scathingly, irritated that his friend found the whole situation even the least bit funny.

As Blaise's laughter subsided, he sat up straight again, regaining his composure.

"So," he said, leaning forwards and speaking matter-of-factly, "are you going to ask her out somewhere?"

"What?" Draco said, completely thrown by the question. The shock, though, was quickly replaced by indignation. "Why the fuck would I do that?" he said, looking disgusted. "It's Granger for merlins sake!"

"Well... yeah," the other man said slowly. "Your point being what? That you had a bit of a childhood rivalry? That you were in different houses in school? Or are you still hung up on all that pureblood supremacy bullshit?"

"None!" Draco said, irritated by his friends lack of sympathy with regards to the direness of the situation he was in. "I told you, that muggleborn stuff doesn't bother me anywhere near as much as it used to, and that childhood rivalry stuff is exactly that - childhood. It's in the past! Same with the house shit - I'm not 16 anymore!" he said, shouting the last few sentences of his tirade.

Blaise and Luna both looked at him with the exact same amused and mischievous look on their faces. No wonder they were fucking soulmates, Draco thought bitterly.

"So if none of that bothers you anymore, then why are you so opposed to her?" Luna said lightly.

"Well-" Draco faltered. He was momentarily struck dumb by the simple yet effective argument they had given, until he found the obvious answer.

"Because even aside from all of that, we just don't like each other," he said simply, leaning back into his chair. "We've got nothing in common, we have completely different life experiences and, to be completely honest, she doesn't interest me all that much."

"That's fair enough," said Blaise after a second or two, still looking vaguely mischievous. "But don't you think it would be beneficial for both of you if you at least tried to be civil? You're in the same social circle now, so you might as well give it a go. Show everyone the 'new Draco'" he finished with a smirk.

Draco just looked at him, unamused.

"Okay okay" he continued, laughing, "what I was going to say before though was I think you should apologise to her. Even if you don't like her and even if it was unintentional, bringing up her parents like that isn't great."

"I know," Draco said with a sigh.

He could tell Pansy to apologise for him, though that wouldn't really convey the fact that he did feel genuinely sorry. He supposed he could go and talk to her in person, but... no definitely not - way too personal.

"I'll write her a note or something," he decided. "Can I borrow your owl?"

"Sure," said Blaise, standing up and yawning, "go ahead."

Luna went and got him a scrap of parchment and a quill, and he leant on one of the many books scattered around the living room. Deciding on something short and to the point, he wrote quickly and sent the owl on its way, having asked Luna to tell it where to go.

With his conscience cleared slightly and his frustration practically all used up, Draco felt tiredness set into his bones like a heavy liquid seeping through him, weighing down his limbs.

"I think I'll make a move," he said with a yawn. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About two in the morning," Luna said, reading from the clock on the wall.

"Shit," he said, then sheepishly "sorry about waking you both up, by the way."

"S'fine," Blaise said, stifling another yawn. "You could just stay over here, if you wanted? And if Luna doesn't mind?"

"No, I think that would be fun!" the small witch said excitedly, "I'll make my special recipe pancakes for breakfast!" She then leaned in towards Draco and said "I put some grated dirigible plums into them, you know, to keep the nargles away," as if he was meant to know what on earth she was talking about.

He was about to say that no, he didn't know, and that he would really rather go and be on his own for a while, but the excited look on the girls face and the fact that he actually did miss spending time with Blaise made him say otherwise.

"Yeah I'll stay," he said, "just show me where I can sleep."

The next morning, just after eight, the three former classmates sat around Blaise and Lunas breakfast bar. The kitchen was a mismatch of the couple's distinctive styles - clean, elegant, white cupboards and light wooden countertops which were then covered with suspicious looking, colourful ingredients and ornaments. The walls were painted a bright, sky blue, while the floors were covered with crisp white tiles.

Despite his initial suspicions regarding the pancakes, Draco actually found himself enjoying the dirigible plums - even if he still didn't know what the bloody hell nargles were.

As the three of them slipped into a surprisingly natural conversation, Draco found himself quietly observing Blaise and Luna - their easy smiles, occasional touches and shared looks should have been out of place, given that Draco had never seen them even interact prior to the night before, but it seemed so... natural. He pondered on this to himself for a moment, before being snapped back to reality by someone saying his name.

"Huh?" he asked, not having heard what was said.

"I was saying," Blaise said, "what are you up to today? Because I have to be at the Ministry for work in about an hour or so."

Draco exhaled, suddenly realising that, without his research, his days were going to be extremely boring.

"Nothing much," he said, "but if you two need to get going I'll get out of your hair. I'll probably go to Diagon Alley or somewhere."

"I could come with you if you'd like," Luna spoke up, "I don't have to be at work until later on - Daddy said there's someone I need to interview at midday about newly discovered benefits of Gnome saliva."

Draco thought for a moment. In spite of his initial reaction to the blonde witch, he'd actually found himself enjoying her eccentricities and blunt observations - conversation so far had actually been quite amusing.

"Yeah okay, sounds good," he said. "Let me just go home quickly and get changed."

An hour later, he and Luna were walking along Diagon Alley, occasionally stopping to look in a shop or inspect a window display. Draco found he still got a few sideways glances as well as some outright glares, but being with someone else made them slightly easier to ignore. In fact, he found himself genuinely enjoying Luna's company - it was like talking to Pansy or Blaise, except with a few more insightful and genuinely weird comments scattered here and there.

As they walked and talked, they arrived at Flourish and Blotts. Stopping at the doorway, they both decided to go inside and read for a while before Luna would have to go to see about the Gnome saliva (which, she told a mildly interested Draco, was one of the most underrated and under appreciated substances out there).

Once inside, Draco chose a book from the 'New In Stock' section; Summaries in Philosophy. He'd heard some snippets about Muggle Philosophy in the past - Plato, Cicero and the likes - but he'd never really thought about it that much. The book, however, caught his interest, and he read the first page quickly before going to find Luna.

As he turned the corner of one of the isles, he saw a flash of the girl's long, platinum hair and started walking towards her, nose already buried in his book. He reached the table where she was sat and took a seat underneath a nearby window.

"Hey," he said, still not looking up at her, "you ever read anything about Muggle Philosophy?"

"A little," said Luna. "I found it quite interesting. I'm sure Hermione will have, though."

Draco' brow furrowed.

"Granger?" he said as he finally tore his eyes away from the pages to rest on Luna. "Why bring her-"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a familiar head of bushy brown curls. Her wide, dark eyes were looking directly at him, her whole expression a mirror image of the shock and slight distain he was also displaying.

"Oh, fuck," Draco said under his breath, just as

Hermione seemed to regain her usual composure. Her chin rose upwards a few inches before she looked back down at her own book.

"Actually," she said, "I do happen to know quite a lot about Philosophy."

The familiar know-it-all tone in her voice irritated Draco, and he had to consciously try not to shoot back with some snarky remark.

"I'm surprised you would even pick up a book on a Muggle subject," she continued, obviously trying to wind him up, "not worried you'll contaminate yourself?"

Draco shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He was just about to retort with the whole 'you-don't-know-a-fucking-thing-about-me-so-don't-pretend-that-you-do' spiel, when Blaise's words from the night before popped into his head.

 _"...Don't you think it would be beneficial for both of you if you at least tried to be civil?"_

He dropped his head, exhaling deeply. Looking back up a second later, he saw Granger looking at him, vaguely amused at her own teasing.

"No actually, I'm not," he said with a blatantly forced smile, "I've been away for a year learning about merging magic with Muggle science, and I've developed quite a sizeable respect for Muggle academia as a result. Now if you don't mind," he ground out, quickly loosing his restraint, "I'd like to read in peace."

He took one last look at the curly haired witch in front of him before looking back down at his book.

He covered his sly grin with his hand - the reaction had been worth the almost physical pain the civility had caused him.

Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Hermione Granger had looked like she'd just seen him eat his own arm.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N: since I start every chapter off with some form of apology, I'll shake it up a little and just say thanks - if you've still stuck around and waited even though my updates are sporadic AT BEST, then** **thank you!** **Reading reviews and seeing my views go up** ** _does_** **motivate me to just buckle down and actually get writing, so thank you so much. The reason for** ** _this_** **delay was a *major* case of writers block and the fact that for the whole of January I was trapped at the bottom of a BBC Sherlock well. I hop you like the chapter and thank you for putting up with me 3 ola**

An hour later, Hermione had recovered from the shock of Draco's response, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Of all the things she'd ever heard, Draco Malfoy having genuine respect for anything Muggle had to be one of the strangest; and yet looking up from her book, she saw his furrowed brow and intent gaze - he was _completely_ absorbed.

Hermione felt at a loss about... well, just about everything. Firstly, there had been the complete and utter bombshell that her and _Malfoy_ were bloody _soulmates_ (though Hermione was still reluctant to believe that), followed by seeing him at Pansy's house, then her revealing personal details for no apparent reason, leading to the argument and finally, and perhaps most shockingly, the apology. That had completely blindsided her.

When she had woken up that morning, that small piece of parchment had left her speechless for several long moments. Malfoy, the antagonist of her childhood, had just apologised of his own accord. And not only that, but it had felt genuine. Was it possible? Could someone she had long deemed heartless and cold have been actually effected enough to swallow his (enormous amounts of) pride and admit to his mistakes? Suddenly, she felt a slight pang of guilt. It hadn't been just him shouting last night, a small voice reminded her. She had said some pretty bad things too - it wasn't her place to talk about his dead father, regardless of how she felt about him.

Just as she was about to break the surprisingly comfortable silence, Luna beat her to it.

"I should probably get moving," she said airily as she stretched her arms above her head.

"Where are you going?" Hermione said, grimacing at how whiny and desperate she sounded. She didn't want to let the blonde man sat near to her know that she was less than happy about the prospect of being sat alone with him. Draco didn't seem to have noticed though - he looked just as scared as he watched Luna stand up to leave.

"I'm interviewing a woman about her recent findings on the benefits of Gnome saliva," she said brightly, not noticing (or more likely choosing to ignore) the palpable tension which had descended on their small corner of the upstairs library.

"Oh," Hermione said weakly. She was meeting Fred and George at one, which ideally meant that she had an hour before she needed to leave Flourish and Blotts. She could leave early she supposed, to avoid having to sit alone with Malfoy, but... no, she didn't like the guy, but she did still owe him an apology.

"Thanks for last night by the way, Luna," Draco said, pulling Hermione away from her thoughts and sparking her insatiable curiosity.

"Oh it was no problem," Luna said lightly, "I'm glad you liked the pancakes."

He smiled. It was a genuine, warm, friendly smile - one which made Hermione's breath catch slightly and her mind go blank. She had never seen Malfoy smile like that before, and she vaguely registered herself thinking that it looked... she wouldn't go as far as to say 'nice', but it was an improvement. Merlin. She pushed that thought deep down into the recesses of her brain.

Then Luna (ever the eccentric) simply smiled, waved and walked away without another word, leaving that uncomfortable tension to continue festering between the two of them that remained.

Before it got to be too much however, Hermione, against her better judgement and before she could change her mind, spoke up.

"Um, thanks, by the way," she said, meeting Dracos gaze. He looked slightly confused at her words.

"For the apology," she elaborated, "It was... a nice surprise. And, um, I'm sorry too. I-I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, so... yeah."

She cringed at her own awkwardness, blushing furiously. It was a good job her dark complexion was able to hide most of it - she felt like her head was on fire. She'd always been like this when it came to feelings though: awkward and easily embarrassed. It frustrated her to no end.

Draco however, the king of icy stares and controlled emotions, strangely looked just as awkward.

"I... ah... thanks. And... you're welcome, I guess" he mumbled, looking back down at his book, his cheeks a faint pink.

They went back to reading, some of the tension having dissipated and an almost comfortable silence filling the space it left. Neither of them noticed, but while their heads were angled downwards, they both had small smiles ghosting their lips.

"Maybe she's in Flourish and Blotts? She probably got absorbed in some huge book and forgot she's an actual person with actual plans," Fred suggested. George laughed.

"Of course," he chuckled, "obvious. Dear brother, I'd say you were a genius but I promised Mum I'd try to stop lying so much."

"Oh ha ha," Fred laughed sarcastically, hitting him on the arm, "you're hilarious."

They set off towards the book shop, setting out a plan for how best to creep up on Hermione and give her a good old fashioned jump-scare.

"So this Plato, he... who was he?"

Hermione laughed under her breath. He'd been reading the passage on Plato for the past ten minutes, but Hermione suspected that he hadn't yet made it past the first few sentences.

"An Ancient Greek philosopher; one of the greatest philosophers ever, in my opinion. He founded the first ever institution for higher learning and came up with some of the most fundamental ideas for philosophy, science, religion and..." she trailed off, slightly embarrassed at her own rambling and the fact that she'd been about to go into her personal ideas about the topic without a second thought. Harry and Ron had always been a little annoyed by her constantly reeling off information like she was reading straight from a book. But looking up she saw that, to her surprise, Draco didn't seem bothered. In fact he was staring off to the side somewhere, brow furrowed, obviously absorbing what she had been saying. He noticed that she'd stopped talking and looked back at her.

"...and? What's else were you going to say?" he asked simply.

Hermione was dumbfounded for a split second, but quickly recovered by launching back into what she had been saying, this time slightly more confident.

"And he... well, I feel like while a few of his ideas are a little odd by today's standard, a lot of what he had to say is just so intriguing. I've always loved his writings, even if quite a bit of it is difficult to get to grips with - and Plato's cave is just so... interesting."

She glanced towards the man sat across from her, vaguely anxious to see his reaction, and was surprised to see that he was regarding her with a sort of... intellectual interest.

"Plato's cave?" he questioned, one brow raised.

"It's..." she hesitated slightly, not wanting to push the conversation too far into 'know-it-all' territory. "It's an allegory written by Plato, but it was originally said to him by Socrates, who was actually Plato's teacher."

Draco nodded to let her know he was following.

"It's basically an idea about reality," she continued. "It tells you to imagine some prisoners who have been chained up inside a cave for as long as they've been alive, and they're facing a completely blank wall. These prisoners have never known anything outside of the cave, and the only thing they ever see are the shadows cast by people walking in front of the fire pit behind them."

Draco tilted his head, listening intently as Hermione continued, hands gesturing enthusiastically as she got more and more confident.

"The prisoners give names to these shadows and for them, the shadows are their reality; they've never known anything else. Socrates, in Plato's writing, says that philosophers are like the prisoners once they escape the cave, seeing everything clearly and for the first time. The people who don't contemplate or challenge their own reality are like the prisoners still chained up. It's just..." she trailed off again, this time looking up, trying to find the right words. "It's just so thought-provoking, isn't it?"

Draco nodded again, thinking. It really was. He'd already read a basic version of the story in the book he'd been reading, but the language had been too heavy to keep him interested and, somehow, having Granger explain it to him made him want to understand it, which was... odd.

He asked another question, and this time Hermione was happy to give him the answer. The pair fell into easy conversation, both of them glad to be intellectually stimulated for once.

Hermiones office job, while occasionally interesting, didn't exactly leave much room for innovative thought and, more often than not, she found herself mindlessly categorising pieces of evidence and filling out forms. Draco, on the other hand, was sick of the mind numbing routine he had fallen into - wake up, breakfast, read, sleep, lunch, sit in silence for a while, talk to mother, read, dinner, sit in his room, sleep. The past two days, what with Pansy's invite, the torturous meal, his argument with Granger, seeing Blaise again, meeting Luna and finally his current conversation had been more interesting than the majority of the last few months combined. In fact, he thought to himself, the most interesting things to have happened to him since he got back were all somehow related to Granger, his supposed-

He cut his thoughts off there and tried to concentrate on whatever the curly haired witch in front of him was actually saying, but found he had to resolve what his subconscious has started to wander towards.

Regardless of how stimulating conversation with her could actually be, he told himself, there was no way that they were actually... 'soulmates'. His eyes rolled internally at the mere thought. Tropes and cliches like that simply didn't exist outside of legends and fairytales.

From their vantage point behind one of the bookcases, a pair of red-headed twins had heard and saw the last ten minutes of Hermione and Draco's friendly conversation. George gestured to Fred after a minute or two; a jerk of his thumb towards the exit. Fred nodded in agreement, a sly smile on his face, and they both slipped away, undetected. Once they were far enough to be out of earshot, they burst into fits of giggles.

"No way," Fred said through a laugh, "absolutely no way!"

"So Ron wasn't lying, they really are soulmates," George said, a mix of wonderment, mischievous glee and confusion on his face.

"What do you think," said Fred with a grin, "shall we let her off for missing our lunch arrangements?"

George thought for a second.

"Yeah," he said, "but only if we can agree to tease her about this later."

"Agreed."

"...and that's why...that's...why..." Hermione trailed off, looking down at her battered old watch. " _Shit_."

She stood up hurriedly from the table, cursing under her breath as she packed up the paperwork she'd been working on before Draco had gotten there.

"What's the hurry?" he asked, at a loss as to her sudden movements.

"It's me," she said exasperatedly, "I just... lost track of time."

She glanced at him as she continued trying to stuff reams and reams of paper into a fairly small satchel, obviously having forgotten that, as a witch, she could easily pack them away using magic in a matter of seconds. Draco looked at her amusedly as he realised this, and then asked what she was late for.

"I was meant to meet Fred and George for lunch and then get into work by..." (she looked at her watch again and growled) "about ten minutes ago."

"How come you weren't in work this morning?"

"They basically told me not to come in until after lunch in order to give myself 'plenty time to recover from what must have been an emotionally exhausting day'" she said, air-quoting as she went. "I told them last year that I want to just carry on as normal and pretend it's any other day but, apparently, I don't have the authority to make that decision."

Draco noted her bitter tone of voice, and how her upper lip curled and brows knitted together whenever she thought something was stupid.

"Idiots," she muttered under her breath as she slung her bag over her shoulder and straightened her work attire.

Draco laughed out loud at that, which made Hermione smirk slightly and again register how much more normal and unthreatening he looked whenever he had a genuine smile on his face.

"Well... see you later," she said, suddenly unsure of herself for the first time in over an hour. She didn't really want to leave this little bubble that had sprung up around them as they had chatted - it had been a brief escape from the monotony and exhaustion of her life of late, which was... odd, given that it had been in the presence of Malfoy.

"Yeah," he said, seeming equally unsure. "Bye, I guess."

Hermione stood still for a second and started to say something more, but stopped, nodded, and turned to leave.

As he watched her slowly make her way down the aisle between the bookshelves, Draco had the sudden realisation that he had also lost track of how long they had been sat talking. Usually, he would be counting down the hours until he got to go and take some Dreamless Sleep and have a nightmare free nights sleep, but the past two hours had made him forget everything that had been running through his mind since he'd got back from America. Suddenly, a panic gripped him; it was small, but noticeable enough to make him stand up from his chair and follow after the curly haired witch. His long stride meant he caught up to her in a matter of seconds, and, hearing him approach, she turned just as he reached her.

"Did I leave something?" she asked, looking mildly confused.

"No I just..." shit, he thought. He hadn't actually planned what he was going to say. What did he even want? "I ah, I just wondered if... can we do this again one day? The, you know, just reading and talking and..." fuck, he thought; was it even possible to mess up a single sentence that badly? "I don't know, forget it," he said, internally kicking himself for acting so impulsively. Just one of his many, many faults, he thought to himself. He half expected her to make some awkward excuse or just leave without answering, but, once again, she surprised him.

"Yeah, I mean... yeah, I'd like that. It was certainly interesting, wasn't it?" she said tentatively, saving him from his embarrassment. And there was that word again - interesting. He was beginning to see that every interaction with Granger somehow fit into that general description.

"So... I'll owl you," she said, so unsure that it sounded more like a question.

"I- yeah, okay," he said lamely. "Well... bye again then."

She chuckled, still slightly uneasy.

"Bye again."

She turned to leave again, and Draco found that the anxiety from before didn't make an appearance this time.


	12. Chapter 12

**ALL PREVIOUS DISCLAIMERS APPLY.**

 **A.N: sorry for the wait and the fairly short chapter - it originally had more to it but I just wanted fo get** ** _something_** **up while I finished the rest. Hope you enjoy!**

She paused, pen halfway towards the small scrap of paper in front of her, her hand shaking slightly as she sat paralysed with indecision. The quiet of her kitchen was punctuated only by the soft twittering of birds floating through the open patio doors leading to her small backyard, and the morning sunshine was warming her back as she sat at the kitchen table, letters strewn all over the surface surrounding her (now ice cold) cup of tea.

That morning, she had owled pretty much every friend she had, asking if they were free to do anything. The replies had all come back reading basically the same thing - Pansy and Ron were away for the weekend, Harry and Ginny were inundated with a poorly Teddy, Luna was on yet another wild goose chase after some loony interviewee, and Fred and George were dealing with the busiest weekend of the year so far at the shop. She'd even considered visiting Arthur and Molly Weasley, but, even though she loved them both dearly, she didn't think she'd have the energy to answer all of Arthur's constant questions about all things Muggle. Other than that, everyone she knew was busy doing something or another.

Hermione, however, had woken up that Saturday morning with three things; a day off, nothing to do and a great big dose of restless boredom. Even though it was only 10am, she had already tried having a lie in (which had lasted exactly 7 minutes; she'd been counting), reading, playing with Crookshanks, tidying every inch of her house and even watching half an episode of Jeremy Kyle on TV. Instead of her boredom being cured, though, she had just been left with a clean house and even more restlessness than before.

This was quite unusual for Hermione - even though today she was eager to get out and about, ever since the war had ended she had revelled in the peace and quiet of being alone in her own home. She loved the fact that nobody was there to expect anything from her; she'd had her fair share of that during the fighting, when pretty much everyone else's lives had depended on her actions. Ever since she'd moved into that modest little terraced house in a quiet area of Muggle London, it had become her solitude; an escape from the mundane realities of everyday life, and somewhere she could be herself, completely free from the expectations of others. Letting anybody else inside her little bubble always felt wrong somehow; this was why she tended to meet people in Diagon Alley instead.

She sighed. Apparently, that wouldn't be happening today, no matter how desperate she was for some company.

Well, a small voice inside her said, that was unless-

Nope. She dropped her hand from where it was held, still elevated above the paper, and then slumped her head onto the table with a groan. Her last option for a possible cure to her boredom right at this moment was Malfoy. She'd been trying to avoid that niggling realisation for most of the morning - she had, after all, agreed to meet him again one day in Flourish and Blotts. Hell, she'd even said that she would _owl_ him to set something up.

Attempting to get past her initial repulsion, she tried to think rationally for a second. Given all the factors in her current situation, the idea of electively spending time with the ferret didn't even seem like such a bad idea. Merlin - if only her 14 year old self could hear her now.

Hermione stopped her train of thought and laughed without humour, head still on the table. Of course this exact series of events would happen. It was like the universe was somehow conspiring to make her lose her mind; that was the only possible explanation for why sitting with Malfoy didn't seem like the most abhorrent option available to her. In fact, to her faint horror, the more she thought about it, the more it didn't sound like a bad idea at all - their unfortunately overlapped group of friends would surely appreciate them trying to overcome their differences for the sake of social harmony, and, if she was completely honest with herself, she had actually quite... enjoyed... the last time she'd seen him.

Hermione growled as she came to the realisation that she had somehow just justified asking _Draco Malfoy_ to spend time with her. No, she thought, no; she was just using him for something to do. He was a distraction from her current boredom. That sounded... better?

She knew _just_ what Pansy would say though - after the strange yet surprisingly pleasant afternoon she'd spent with Malfoy a few weeks ago, she'd gone home after work to find Pansy sat in her living room; she'd completely forgotten about inviting her over the night before, and Pansy was never the sort to check if you still wanted her there or not; she just turned up.

At the time, Hermione had made a sort of unconscious decision to not really tell anyone about the events of that day, but Pansy's knowing smirk had told her that, somehow, she already knew.

 _"Why are you looking at me like that," she asked slowly, bracing herself for the inevitable as she sat down next to her friend on the sofa._

 _"I spoke to Luna today," the raven haired witch said nonchalantly, inspecting her nails with a satisfied yet smug smile on her face. "We were just chatting, you know-' she waved her hand flippantly, '-about Blaise and such, when she mentioned that a certain someone and a certain someone else were alone together in a certain book shop today."_

 _Hermione just stared and blinked at her, not betraying even the slightest hint of an emotional response. She stayed completely silent._

 _"So?" Pansy enquired again once a few long seconds had passed. "What happened!" she said, dropping the 'barely interested' act and bouncing in her seat a like an excitable child._

 _Hermione just slumped down further into the couch cushions with a sort of half-groan-half-growl._

 _"We were just reading," she said, deliberately vaguely, "and, I don't know - chatting, I guess? Just about philosophy though, nothing 'happened'," she said, air quoting the last word and feeling disgusted by the notion._

 _"Oh yawn, philosophy," Pansy rolled her eyes, laughing, "no wonder you two are soulmates."_

 _Hermione bristled at the mention of soulmates._

 _"Will you stop bringing that up, for Merlins sake!" she said, slightly embarrassed and a little bit angry. "You know I don't believe in any of that nonsense." She crossed her arms across her chest tightly, staring off at the opposite wall but not really seeing anything at all._

 _Pansy just watched her intently, and then softened her gaze, obviously pitying her visibly distressed friend._

 _"He's not a bad guy, you know," she'd said, reaching out to touch Hermione's arm lightly, getting her attention. "And I know he was beyond an arse to you in school, and I know that you have every right to never speak to him. But I also know that you two are more alike than you might think. Take it from me - I've known him since we were in nappies together, and you're one of the best friends I've ever had. I know you both."_

 _As Hermione tried to process her words, Pansy just kept going, attempting to make her see the supposed 'hidden side' of Draco Malfoy. Hermione had just never been comfortable with the notion of a conventional relationship, and all that it entailed._

 _"And I know that you're not interested in anything... well, sexual," Pansy said, almost as if she had read Hermione's thoughts, "but there aren't any rules saying that that's how this would have to work. Even if you two were just friends, I think you'd both get a lot out of it," she implored, and then, upon seeing Hermione's skeptical expression, added "honestly, I really do."_

Hermione tapped the table rhythmically with her half-bitten nails, deep in thought. Even if they were just friends. That thought had been floating around in her head ever since Pansy had said it that night. She'd been right about her not wanting anything sexual either - that just wasn't... her. Hermione had realised she was asexual at some point during her 6th year of school. Whilst Ron and Lavender had been off... copulating, Hermione had taken time out to think through the complex emotions she'd been experiencing.

There had been romantic jealousy, that much she knew, since she'd had some sort of crush on her goofy ginger friend for years before then. But knowing even the smallest details of the sexual aspect of the couple's relationship sort of... repulsed her, more than anything else. There was no jealousy there; she just didn't want to have that with Ron. It was then that she'd realised she'd never actually felt that sort of attraction to him or _anyone_ \- _ever_. After this, she began to see things from her past start to fall into place - things that had always been a slight source of insecurity for her.

She had cast her mind back to her fourth year, and remembered the gangs of girls constantly ogling Victor whenever he was around. She had overheard a few of the other girls expressing a more physical sort of attraction for the Bulgarian Quiddich star, but she had never felt that herself. She was much more content to just be around him, learning about him and indulging in the romantic side of their brief relationship.

As the years had gone by, Hermione had become more and more confident in her identity - her lack of sexual attraction had no bearing on her self esteem, her confidence or her happiness, and she had just never had the time for, or the interest in, any romantic relationships either. This was half of the reason why she had dreaded meeting her 'soulmate' so much - sex and sexual attraction was such a large part of modern life and modern relationships, and she just knew that being suddenly thrown together with someone who knew nothing about her, and who would more than likely be someone who did experience sexual attraction, would throw her quiet life completely off kilter.

But friends? Hermione had been shocked that she hadn't really thought about that being an option. She supposed that due to generations of people meeting soulmates who then went on to become their romantic and sexual partners, she had fallen into the trap of thinking that this was how it had to be, even if it was something she didn't want.

Hermione could deal with a possible friendship though.

She picked up her pen and started writing.

 _To Malfoy, how would you like to-_

She stopped writing and laughed at herself, then waved her wand and erased her neat print from the paper. Try again, she thought.

 _Drac-_

No no no; no way. Much too personal - that was even worse than the last one. Scrap that. She tried again, searching for the right way to ask something she knew she wanted to ask, but almost couldn't believe that she did.

 _Malfoy,_

 _meet at Flourish and Blotts at 3 today?_

 _HG._

Impersonal and brief, she thought as she mulled it over for a second - perfect.

She stood up to go and see if her little barn owl Muffin was up for one last journey; she'd likely get an irritated peck on the hand after all the flying she'd already asked him to do that day.

Just as she reached the kitchen door a soft hoot sounded behind her, followed by a flapping of wings and the thud of ceramic against wood, making her spin around so quick she nearly toppled over.

On the kitchen table, next to an puddle of spilled tea, was a jet black owl carrying a small piece of parchment.

Slowly, she made her way over, took the note and then procured some seeds to placate the bird, who was now dipping one of its feet into the puddle curiously.

She unfolded the letter and just had to laugh.

 _Granger,_

 _I know you said you would owl me but honestly, it's taken a while and I'm in desperate need of something to do. Meet at Flourish and Blotts today? Pansy said you weren't busy._

 _Send a reply back with my owl,_

 _DM._

Chuckling at the sheer absurdity of it all, and trying extremely hard not to remember Pansy's words about how similar they were, she turned the parchment over and scrawled out a reply on the back.

 _Malfoy,_

 _Pansy was right about me not being busy, I can meet today._

She paused. Now that she knew her offer wouldn't be rejected, she decided that 3 was much too late - meeting at 2 o'clock would give her enough time to get ready. She resumed writing.

 _Is 2 o'clock okay?_

 _HG._

She quickly tied the note to Malfoy's owl and sent it on its way, not giving herself the chance to over-analyse what she was agreeing to.

Of course, Hermione being Hermione, she did just that for the rest of the morning anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N: I can only apologise for the wait! A levels and life in general just got in the way, and I lost my motivation to write for quite a while. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review! :)**

Once she received a note of confirmation that yes, 2 o'clock was fine, Hermione went into full anticipation mode.

She showered, tamed her hair (yet still allowed her natural texture to shine), got dressed and brushed her teeth all within half an hour. Which left (she looked at the clock on the oven)... two and a half hours of boredom.

She tried reading again but couldn't hold her attention to the words for more than a minute at a time, so she gave up and dropped the book on the floor in exasperation, before feeling guilty and putting it back on it's shelf.

She had no idea what to do with herself. The thought of sitting down to finish her mountain of paperwork was even less appealing than doing absolutely nothing. Which was sad to her, somehow. Somewhere along the way to where she was now, she'd lost her passion for working and getting things done. Back in her school days, work had never been a chore; it had always been enjoyable, knowing that she was constantly building on her skills and working towards her goals, all whilst proving herself to whoever doubted her. But now? For the life of her, she couldn't think of one single goal she had now. She wanted to travel someday, that much she knew, but it was such a vague and un-empirical aspiration that she didn't really have any particular drive to get up and just... get it done.

Her life had become a schedule; a rota. Work, home, friends. Work, home, friends - every week for the past two or so years.

After her parents deaths, she had appreciated the structure and the regularity of that pattern - it allowed her to latch onto a sense of normalcy. With the help of Harry, the Weasleys and Pansy especially, Hermione had made it out of one of the darkest times of her life, and she loved them all so much for it. Even now, over a year after the fact, they all checked in with her regularly, asking how she was and if she wanted to meet up for lunch, or meet at their house for dinner, or calling round just to chat.

But in keeping busy for so long, Hermione now felt like she was no longer able to just... be. The Hermione who used to be able to sit alone for whole days, reading and keeping to herself was just... gone. Whenever she allowed herself to sit alone in the quiet, she found herself ruminating and dwelling on all the ways in which she was unsatisfied with her life. It always seemed to come back to her parents or her job - one of which she was unable to change and the other she was, but didn't have the energy to do so.

She needed something different, something to shake her up a little bit. She supposed that that was why the idea of striking up a friendship with a changed and improved Malfoy sounded somewhat appealing - never in a million years was that what she had expected to be thrown her way; and that was exactly what she needed.

Hermione sat up straight, stretched, and checked the clock on the living room wall - 1:00. She growled lightly in frustration, before making a decision to just go early. There was no point waiting around doing nothing when she could go out on her own and get something done. She did need some new clothes, she thought, looking down at her worn jeans (which were starting to feel a little too tight), her loose t-shirt and faded red converse. Maybe she'd go and do that.

Hermione stepped out into the bright sunshine of a very crowded Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards were bustling about as far as the eye could see - it was a perfect day to get lost in the crowd.

She started walking to where she knew the few muggle clothing shops were. Since the end of the war, these shops, which were beginning to integrate certain aspects muggle culture into wizarding life, had started to pop up left, right and centre - much to Hermione's delight. She had never completely taken to traditional wizarding dress, but had always gotten strange looks from the magical community when wearing an entirely muggle outfit out in public. Now though, more and more people were beginning to adopt the much more modern way of dressing, and she could see more than a few people decked out in jeans and t-shirts.

Making her way through the crowds, she couldn't help but notice that people _still_ stared. While she had no regrets about her involvement in winning the war, the level of celebrity that came with it was something she had never even thought about. The first time she ventured out after the celebrations had died down, she had expected a just few looks or possibly a day or two of whispering - after all she was no Harry Potter. In her opinion, she didn't warrant much more than maybe a double-take or two. Instead, she found that suddenly people talked about her when she walked past, openly stared at her and even came up and stopped her in the street, offering gratitude and congratulations. Social interactions had never really been Hermione's forte, and she had always found these occurrences to be quite unnerving.

As she walked, absorbed in her own thoughts and attempting to ignore the roaming eyes of the public, she collided hard with the back of someone.

"Sorry," she mumbled, eager to get moving towards her destination. She wanted to get her shopping done and drop it off at home before she met Malf- or should she call him Draco? No, no, Malfoy for now, she thought with a swift shake of her head.

She realised with a start that not only had she not started moving yet, but that the person she had just bumped into was actually talking to her. She looked up quickly and saw that, stood in front of her, platinum hair looking white in the sunlight, was none other than the former ferret himself. She could only laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Sorry," she said again, chuckling nervously, "I think I missed that."

"Yeah, no shit," the blonde said, rolling his eyes. "I said hello and asked why you were here early, but evidently you were being too self-absorbed to notice me," he said with a sniff.

She was about to offer him a swift and scathing reply, justifying her absentmindedness, when she looked closer and saw a hint of playfulness on his features. He wasn't really annoyed.

"You were the one stood in the middle of the street, I've probably got concussion now from the impact! That must've been why I didn't hear you; I could sue you know," she said, matching his expression and folding her arms in mock anger.

He laughed, and Hermione felt proud that she was actually able to make someone laugh - none of her friends had ever really shared her sense of humour.

"Really though, why are you here so early?" he enquired. "We did say 2, didn't we?"

"Yes we did, don't worry," she said quickly, "I needed to go clothes shopping." She gestured towards her outfit, stifling a grimace. "Evidently."

He shrugged, and offered a neutral hum in response. He clearly agreed with her assessment, but didn't want to risk offending her by openly saying so.

"Where were you planning on going to?" he asked, sounding vaguely interested.

"Oh, nowhere special, just to the nearest muggle clothing shop," she pointed to a smallish shop about 50 metres down the street, "just there."

He thought for a second, evidently having an internal battle with himself, and then let out a deep breath, slowly and almost inaudibly.

"Do you mind if I... tag along?" he offered, and Hermione could hear the tentative apprehension in his voice. "I don't exactly have much else to be doing right now, truth be told."

Hermione, who was shocked by his openness, felt her eyebrows travel slowly upwards - and judging by his odd expression, he'd seen her subtle facial movement too.

"It's fine if you don't want me to," he quickly backtracked, "I can just wait somewhere for a while and - you know what I'll just-"

"Malfoy, stop rambling," she cut him off abruptly, and he looked mildly affronted at her bluntness. "You can come with me if you want; I'd quite like the company, in all honesty. There's no point in waiting around for me to finish when we'd be meeting up later anyway."

She tried to read his expression as he reacted to her words, but Hermione might as well have been trying to read a book in complete darkness - every single thing he was thinking or feeling passed over his features, but far too fleeting for her to process. He just looked at her for a few seconds, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

He must have settled whatever dispute he was having with himself eventually though, as he broke the silence.

"Alright, if you could use the company then I suppose _I'll_ have to do; let's go."

Malfoy turned to walk in the direction Hermione had previously pointed, leaving her staring bemusedly at his back for a moment before she caught up to walk just beside him in the jostling crowds. Now people are definitely going to stare, she thought to herself.

"And you would just, wear these? I mean... for what purpose?"

Draco Malfoy was holding up a pair of jogging bottoms, a strained expression on his face.

Upon entering the shop, Hermione had become aware of the fact that Malfoy knew a very limited amount about muggle clothing. She should've guessed, really - the only clothes she ever saw him wearing were smart-but-casual black wizarding robes, crisp white or black shirts and tailored suit pants. All of which, he had informed her, he didn't actually go out to shop for; they were ordered in from designers in Italy or France or... wherever. Hermione hadn't really been paying full attention to his descriptions of high-fashion tailors from around the globe.

She did, however, pay attention when he gasped quietly upon seeing the racks and rails of muggle clothing. It was a mixture of amazement, curiosity and distaste, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at him, which earned her a swift glare and prompted the discussion about his own clothing habits.

Forty minutes after their arrival, they had perused the various aisles of clothes and Hermione had even managed to convince him to take a few items to try on, after a fair amount of resistance. The jogging bottoms were the current battle.

"For what purpose?" She laughed. "A lot of purposes, actually."

"What does that even mean?" he asked, looking thoroughly perplexed and a little bit disgruntled.

"Well, some people wear them when they play sports, others wear them like normal trousers for going out in, and most people wear them around the house, you know; like lounge pants."

He still looked completely bemused.

"Just try them on," she urged, "they'll be a hell of a lot comfier than those things." She pointed at his suit pants.

He looked between her and the jogging bottoms a few times, before huffing and laying them over the crook of his arm along with the few other items Hermione had convinced him to try. She smirked to herself - small victories, Hermione, small victories.

A short while later, Hermione was stood outside of the two curtained changing rooms at the very back of the shop, waiting for Malfoy to finish trying on the clothes he'd deemed not too disgusting. So far, he had tried on a forest green shirt (ever the Slytherin), a pair of dark blue jeans, a light summer jacket and an assortment of plain t-shirts - all of which he had initially tried to convince her that he disliked. She knew he didn't though, because every item so far was on the 'buy' pile on one of the chairs surrounding the changing rooms.

"Jogging bottoms, Malfoy," she shouted from outside the curtained cubicle.

There was a drawn out sigh from inside.

"Fine," he whined. Malfoys didn't whine, Draco knew this - but he thought that perhaps his ancestors might be more lenient considering his current situation. Actually, he thought, scratch that. Wearing muggle clothes, in a muggle clothing shop, with his muggleborn 'soulmate', entirely by choice? He'd be more likely to get an execution date than any sympathy from those ancient bastards.

He looked down at the jogging bottoms he held in his hands.

He was being stupid - fuck the ancestors, it was only clothes. He was going to wear the bloody pants.

He put them on a quickly as possible, eager to get the whole thing over with. All he had to do was put them on as a weird 'fuck you' to... whoever, and then he could just take them off agai-

Fuck. They were the comfiest things he'd ever worn. Not that he'd ever tell Granger that - he'd never hear the end of it from her if he admitted that all his griping had been for nothing.

"They're uh... awful," he shouted, unconvincingly. "Yeah, I absolutely hate them."

There was a pause, and then Granger laughed.

"You're a horrific liar you know."

He growled. He just couldn't lie about these damn pants - they were too good.

"Fine," he ground out, "they're the best things I've ever worn and I never want to take them off."

Another pause.

"Do you want me to go and grab the darker pair too?"

He sighed.

"Yeah, If you don't mind."

Sitting down at the back of a coffee shop a short while later, Hermione ruminated on her current situation while she waited for Malfoy to finish ordering at the counter.

The only word that she could conjure up from her huge vocabulary to describe everything was absurd. A year ago, if someone had told her she would be Draco Malfoy's soulmate, and that she would voluntarily spend time with him and not entirely hate it, she would have laughed in their face and perhaps recommend a check-up at St. Mungo's. But that really was where she found herself to be. No matter how much she wanted to hate spending time with him — purely for her own pride and resentment for the soulmate system as a whole — she couldn't honestly say that she did. And no matter how much it might pain her younger self to admit it, Malfoy really had changed. There was no denying that he had matured; she supposed that spending your teenage years living under the same roof as a murderous, nose -less psychopath, surviving a war and losing a parent could do that to you. It had certainly done so for her — and she'd only had to deal with two of those things.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Malfoy sliding into the booth, sitting down opposite her as he set down her cup of tea and his cup of coffee. It took a hand waving in front of her face for her to be pulled back to reality.

"Oh," she said, "Sorry, I didn't notice you were back."

"I'm positively devastated that my supreme aura wasn't enough to alert you," he quipped, his face betraying no real emotion. She narrowed her eyes and sized him up — was he really going back to that? Or was it just playful sarcasm? She needed to get better at reading him.

"Sarcasm," she stated, eyes still narrowed.

He looked back down at his cup, smirking ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Point two to Hermione.

They sat in a semi -comfortable silence for a few minutes, before it was broken by a soft giggling from Hermione. Quickly, the giggles turned to chuckles, and Malfoy looked at her with his nose wrinkled, seemingly downright affronted.

"What, what is that," he said, "what are you doing?"

"I'm laughing Malfoy," she said through her giggles, "you might like to try it some time, relax your frowning muscles."

He sniffed, even more affronted.

"I assure you I _do_ laugh, but only at things which are in any way funny," he stated, nose raised slightly. "And besides, you're not laughing, you're giggling - Malfoys _don't_ giggle."

Her laughter faded slightly.

"Sorry," she said, gathering herself together. "I've been trying to get over how strange this all is, but I just can't seem to get past it."

He stared at her, brow furrowed.

"How strange what is?"

Now that was a surprise. She tried to read him again, but couldn't detect any signs of sarcasm in his voice this time. He was being serious.

"I mean, just all of this,"she said, gesturing widely, and then between the two of them. "It's just... who could have ever seen this coming?"

He blanched, mulling over her words, before a strange expression came over his features.

"Granger," he started hesitantly, leaning forward onto his elbows and clearing his throat. "While you are a pleasant enough person to spend time with in small doses-"

"What a flatterer."

"-I need you to know that there isn't... and I don't plan on there ever being... an 'us'. If you catch my meaning."

Hermione began to laugh again with renewed vigour, leaving Draco looking even more confused than before.

"Stop laughing Granger, this is serious!" he said, sounding exasperated.

"No, no it's just... oh thank _Merlin_ ," she exclaimed, "I've been meaning to bring that up but I just didn't know how!"

Draco didn't know whether to be offended at how relieved she sounded or glad that they were on the same page. He settled for somewhere in between.

"No need to sound _so_ pleased Granger, I'll have you know I'm usually a very desirable guy," he said with a slight air of annoyance.

"Well," she started. Should she tell him? She wasn't ashamed, and pretty much all of her other friends knew so.. why not? "It's just that I'm asexual, so the whole idea of having a romantic relationship thrust on me like that wasn't appealing at all, regardless of who it was with," she added pointedly, trying to alleviate any offense.

Draco didn't look any more enlightened than before. If anything he looked even more confused.

"You're... what-sexual?" he enquired, face scrunched up in confusion.

"Asexual," she said, hoping he had some idea of what she meant.

"Like.., a plant?"

Internally, she sighed deeply - this might take a little more time than she'd expected. she supposed that the plant association was to be expected from a scientist.

"No, not like a plant; like someone who doesn't feel sexual attraction."

Draco's eyes immediately widened, and he sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"That's.., that's a thing? I - I didn't know." He sounded genuinely intrigued, so Hermione decided to elaborate for him.

"It is," she said gently, getting the slight feeling that something about this was clicking for the man sat opposite her. "I don't feel sexual attraction to anyone, at all, and I very, very rarely feel romantic attraction. Ron was one of the rare times, and that was only after years of being friends."

Malfoy looked flabbergasted, and Hermione watched the far-off look in his eye right until he seemed to step off whatever train of thought he'd been on. He noticed her looking at him curiously, and cleared his throat.

"I um... didn't know that. Thank you for explaining it to me."

Hermione felt that a genuine thank you from Draco Malfoy should be surprising, but somehow, it wasn't.

"You're welcome," she said simply, and they fell back into silence for another few minutes.

Hermione didn't mind explaining her sexuality to people - especially if they didn't have a clue what it was. She preferred knowing that she could educate people in the right way, and give a factual, positive view on the matter.

She was feeling fairly content until Malfoy spoke again and nearly made her choke on her drink with his question:

"Sorry but, if you don't mind me asking, why did you and the Weasel break up if it was one of the rare times you felt romantic attraction?"

She gathered her thoughts quickly and looked up to see that, instead of the teasing she would once have expected, Malfoy seemed to be asking from a place of genuine interest. He was actually _interested._ In _her._

"I mean its not that _I_ would think of Ronald Weasley as being someone worth sinking your claws into," he continued quickly, "but if you planned on trying to go against all of this soulmate bullshit anyway, and you actually felt that way for him, then why?"

Hermione thought for a few moments, weighing up her options. _She_ knew why her and Ron broke up - but did she really want to tell Malfoy? Her immediate instinct to be defensive was quickly overridden by the feeling that she was safe telling him all this - that somehow she _knew_ that he wouldn't use it against her.

"It was a mutual decision," she began. "Well, mostly anyway."

Malfoy leant forwards, letting her know she had his attention.

"Ron had always been accepting of my sexuality, and for the most part it didn't _really_ affect our relationship. I mean, we still... _did_ things-" (she tried to hide the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks) "-but it was just that I didn't really rate doing them as being of any importance, whereas I think he did. But like I said, it didn't really affect much - the real issue came when Ron started to think seriously about the whole soulmate business."

Malfoy sat back in his seat, crossing his arms as he listened intently.

"While I was positive that the timers wouldn't affect me wanting to be with him, or affect the fact that I loved him, Ron was always quite traditionally romantic - I think there was something in the soulmate idea that really appealed to him - and the fact that it could turn out that his soulmate _wasn't_ me was enough to freak him out. It started more than a few arguments, just because for me it was mostly a non-issue, but for him the future of our relationship really started to hinge on it - he was going to sit with me as I turned 21, and if the timer didn't immediately glow - you know, to say that my soulmate was him - then it would be over. By the time we'd made the plan, I was pretty sure that I didn't want Ron to be my soulmate anyway. It wasn't that I didn't love him, it was just that that whole experience had really opened my eyes to how different we really were; I mean, supposedly opposites attract, but I think that we were far too different in some very basic ways. I knew I couldn't make him happy forever. So when my 21st birthday came and the timer had a couple of years on it, we vowed to still be friends and then... we went our separate ways."

She turned her head and looked out of the shop window onto the bustling streets outside, thoughts lost in the past.

"And then he met Pansy again," Malfoy added.

Hermione looked back and smiled.

"Yes, then him and Pansy met again and they've been happy pretty much ever since - they really do work surprisingly well together."

There was silence for a moment.

"Yeah," he agreed, mind now elsewhere, "I suppose they do."


End file.
